Phoenix
by TakesTwoToTango
Summary: 2 years after Lelouch's death, Suzaku is struggling. He is intent on self-destruction as much as his order will allow, turning his life to ash. But betrayal poisons the royal court and Suzaku is forced to survive in secret after being attacked. He will have to rise again, but can he be redeemed? Perhaps it's not for him to decide. Everything depends on the woman who saved his life.
1. Dragon

A tall, distinguished man, dressed conservatively in a grey suit, brushed back his blond hair, the eyes he shared with much of his family flashing violet in the dim light. He strode through the hallway with purpose, a thick, official envelope stamped with the Empress's seal in his right hand. He didn't bother to knock on the door of his destination; he was the second prince of the Britannian Empire, and there were few doors locked against him.

The man seated behind the mahogany desk stood instantly upon Schneizel's entrance. He bowed deferentially, his dark brown eyes watchful and careful. As head of covert operations, Justice Havens was the master of the spies, and the king of watchdogs for the empire. A slim, tough man nearing his fortieth year dressed in a simple black suit with a subtle navy tie, his unassuming demeanor belied the scar that halved his right eyebrow and dragged down his cheek. Not to mention his kill record. The prince offered him a small nod of acknowledgement before handing Havens the envelope nestled in his hand.

"Orders from the Empress, Havens. Discretion and speed are stressed, as always." Havens glanced down at the envelope, debating with himself. His first instinct was to ask Schneizel what the envelope contained, but it was difficult to get unbiased information from the man. There was always a strange glow to his eyes when issues that tipped the scale away from Nunnally were brought up. Havens was used to biased information, but only after he had made it that way.

Holding his silence and making his way back to his desk, Havens slit the envelope open with the same cool indifference and economical precision he had once slit throats in the field. As his dark eyes swiftly flitted over the heavily scrolled words, his eyebrows slowly lifted. After reading the message through twice, he finally lifted his eyes to the prince.

"Have you read this?" he asked quietly, gesturing with the letter without offering it. Schneizel drew himself up, a familiar expression of foreboding and warning hooding his eyes and hardening his mouth.

"No. I am not apprised of every small command the empress sees fit to delegate. She has assistants for that," he finished sharply. Havens bobbed his head in apology, but couldn't help but wonder what the prince would think of the command he had just received. He guessed that Schneizel's precarious place within the empire was to thank for his snappish mood. Since Odysseus couldn't be confirmed as dead, Nunnally didn't want to promote his younger brother into his position, no doubt to avoid any more conflict within a family still recovering from the violent rifts that had nearly torn it apart should he return. Although Havens privately thought that Odysseus wouldn't care if he was indeed still alive after the Pendragon incident, the empress had taken a firm stand, and she had proven surprisingly stubborn.

As such, Schneizel stood as Nunnally's heir and crown prince; however, upon the birth of any children, he would quickly be displaced, and would stand as little better than the assistants he derided. For a man once reveling in power, Havens supposed this was a difficult thing for the proud prince to swallow.

"Thank you, Your Highness. I will see to it that Empress Nunnally's orders are carried out quickly and discretely, as always." Havens took to examining the letter, waiting until Schneizel had imperiously strode from the room to lift his eyes. Heaving a deep breath through his nose, Justice took his seat behind the desk, tipping his chair back precariously, his impeccable balance keeping it poised on one leg with little to no effort.

Zero was in London right now performing an inspection for the Empress. Besides the capital, the countryside was riddled with old manors falling apart at the seams and craters the size of ponds. Ghettos stained the area outside old major cities. Not the most ideal countryside, and not a big enough political player for enough of his agents to be comfortable with it.

That would make the task of Zero's assassination a little more difficult than usual. But for a man who had killed more than his fair share of straying political figures, he doubted it would pose much of a problem. What really puzzled him was that Nunnally had ordered it at all. What would the second prince do without his master? And what would the empress do without her shadow?

* * *

It was almost two in the morning in London, and as Suzaku dropped onto the aging couch with an explosive sigh, he glanced around, purposely avoiding the glint of the black mask he had dropped in a corner. Nunnally had left the arrangements of his quarters while abroad up to him, and Suzaku, ever the repenting sinner, had booked a small, seedy room on the uglier side of the city. Its only mirror was in the bathroom, which was a relief. He had broken all of the ones in his quarters in the palace, much to the servants' chagrin.

He scrubbed his hands over his face, pressing his fingers against his eyes in a vain attempt to staunch the images that played there. In the two years since the Demon Emperor Lelouch's death, Suzaku had been haunted viciously. The eyes of the dead, the tears of the living; he was constantly barraged by the memories of lives destroyed and dreams ended. And so much of it at his hand. He laughed bitterly, the rusty sound echoing in the dim air.

Lelouch, ever the strategist. Did the bastard have any idea how intensely he had condemned his old friend? Punishing him with a life spent in service of the very empire he had once served loyally, tried to change, then heartlessly abandoned. Forcing him to spend every moment serving Nunnally. It wasn't so much the young woman he despised – she was one of the few reliefs he had, and Suzaku knew that he provided her with some modicum of comfort in replacement for her dead martyr of a brother. But it was the memories. The memories that pounded at the inside of his skull, that thrummed through his body with the beat of his blood until he thought he would drown in them. And he couldn't escape it.

Lelouch had commanded him to live. If you could call this half existence any sort of life. But as long as Suzaku's heart still beat, he was obeying his king's orders. It terrified him, the concept that his life had been whittled down to that. After a lifetime of dissent and hope, Suzaku no longer tried to change anything. He had had his revolution, and he still wasn't even sure he had fought for the right side, even though he had fought for both. He had received his inheritance; ghosts, and a mask. There was nothing else left.

The preparation didn't take long – the last six months had made the movements almost mechanical. The small bite at the crook of his arm didn't even make Suzaku flinch – when the heroin slid into his blood and bloomed in his brain, he finally closed his eyes. It was the only way he could sleep. It was the only way he could find peace. In that drug-induced fog, the ghosts couldn't find him, the people crying while he stood with their blood on his hands blocked by the clouds of heroin. There, he saw the woman he loved alive, and smiling. He slipped away while he could, into oblivion.

* * *

_My first reboot. _

_At least I waited a couple years, which is like decades in the FanFiction world. I was browsing through some old AMV's that I had bookmarked when I came across some awesome Code Geass ones. CG is some amazing AMV fodder. I have to admit, I never actually finished the series – it was all so heartbreaking. I obviously know what happens at the end, and will be forcing myself to watch as much as I can for this. _

_I will be holding to the storyline of my original CG fanfic, _Blue Blood and Green Eyes_. I haven't decided if I will keep Aurora in her entirety, but the essence of her character will remain the same. She will be his rescuer, and his redemption. God knows he needs it. _

_Suzaku fascinates me. He's such a tragic, complicated, sexy character, that I am immediately drawn to him every time I glance at the CG universe. He almost eclipses Lelouch for me, which is not easy. When I went through this round of research, it dawned on me that there was really no way for him to cope with everything that had happened without substance abuse. Since I couldn't see him weaving and slurring, I quickly decided on heroin. God, poor baby._

_Since nothing in Britannia happens without political intrigue, there is something afoot deep in the higher echelons of the government, something nefarious that must be destroyed. But this is definitely a story about Suzaku. I feel like him and Senya (the main character of my novel) would get along really, really well. I love damaged characters like a fat kid loves cake._

_Hope you enjoy it!_


	2. Dope Book

The next afternoon, the phantom-like figure of Zero walked along London streets, the hollow eyes of refugees watching him closely from the shadows of the ruins not yet addressed by the Construction Council. Which was most of the city. No one dared approach him; around here, Zero was something of a wizard, a mythical figure of legend. They had no way to know that this Zero didn't have Geass, but that didn't mean he was any less intimidating.

Suzaku made his way slowly out of the heart of the city – the Thames still didn't run clear, but at least it was moving. It reminded him of the Shinjuku ghetto, which inevitably dredged up memories of the massacre that seemed to have been the beginning of everything. It had been the first time he'd seen Lelouch in years –

Forcefully stopping that train of thought with a shudder, Zero reached out and braced a hand against a beam rammed into the middle of the street, no doubt tossed there by an explosion. Harlesden had been a pit before, and was practically a ghost town now, littered with rubble and populated by the lost and abandoned that scattered at his approach. Vomit burned its way up his throat, and Suzaku's wheezing breaths did little to settle it back down as he squeezed his eyes against flashes of Lelouch and C.C. and Kallen and, God forbid, Euphemia.

Perhaps that's why the infamous Zero was such an easy target; it was almost too easy when he stood still, battling the poison of old memories as his preferred toxin faded from his system. At the last possible second, though, he lurched to the right. This allowed the 7.62 caliber sniper bullet to rip through his left shoulder, cracking his scapula and shattering his collar bone before it buried itself in the ground in front of him instead of severing Suzaku's spine. As he dropped bonelessly to his knees, ineffectively pressing his right hand to his shoulder in numb shock, the sniper, almost a block away, cursed under his breath.

"Dammit. Lucky son of a bitch." His spotter chuckled as the sniper ripped the bolt action lever back, sending the shell flying and smacking the length of metal forward with a dangerously practiced air. "Shut up. Twenty bucks says he doesn't get another block." The spotter raised his brows – he had known the sniper for two years, and the guy was pretty damn talented. But this was Zero they were talking about. The man had to be at least half magic. And they no longer had the element of surprise on their side.

"You're on." The sniper smirked, already sighting the cloaked figure in his scope. His brows quickly drew together, however, and before he could lock onto him, Zero was darting into the building next to him. He squeezed off a round that missed Zero by inches, cracking into the cement of the abandoned bar the masked man dove into.

"Motherfucker," the sniper growled under his breath in an almost wondering tone before sighing heavily. "Call it in. He's leaving a blood trail like a stuck pig – it won't be hard to track him down." The spotter tried really hard not to laugh as he radioed in. He didn't succeed.

The base in London apprised Havens of the situation, who sat at his desk with his fingers pressed together in front of his mouth. The sniper had failed to secure a kill shot, although they could confirm that Zero was wounded; Havens wasn't really surprised. Without a moment's hesitation, he gave the order for the hit team to move in. He had his orders. Zero had to die.

Suzaku stumbled through the musty building, tripping over rotting barstools as the intense rush of his own breathing scored his throat like cold air, the beat of his blood a roar in his ears. Blood had already soaked through his glove, and he could feel the damp heat spreading down to his waist. As the first shock of pain sifted through his system, adrenaline and Lelouch's order quickly unfurled to take its place. His breathing still hard and fast, Suzaku wondered that his heart didn't pound right out of his chest. There was the growl of a motor from the street, then a few shouts as doors slammed and boots stomped against the broken road. They were coming for him.

His cloak snapping like the wings of bird, Suzaku spun and streaked out of the back of the building, slamming through the doorway like a lightning strike out into a back alley that still reeked of urine. Moving on instinct, he turned to the left, dodging into an open doorway that led to a set of stairs missing a five foot section in the middle. Trusting his body to function despite the injury, he sprinted up the rotting wood, soaring over the gap with a balletic grace his opponents had once recognized. Only now, he was black, instead of white. He landed a little harder and less gracefully than usual, but he was already making his way to the third floor by the time the troops following him with guns raised and intent to kill burst into the alley. Suzaku could hear the click of their heels on the pavement, low commands murmured as the unit broke apart to box him in.

Unlike regular army soldiers, these men didn't shout orders and run like buffalo – they melted into the shadows, almost as stealthy as their prey. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Suzaku folded himself into a corner on the third floor, watching the men chasing him closely from the impromptu balcony ripped into the house from half of the floor's collapse. They moved into the shadows, and a few managed to cross the gap in the stairs with little to no fuss. The rest headed outside, no doubt lending cover and making sure he didn't escape to another building. Too bad he would disappoint them.

Heaving one last breath as a bolster, Suzaku leapt to his feet, fleetly running for a window in a dangerous bid for escape. The soldiers heard his steps skittering off the floor above them, sending them running up the steps after him. Calculating the distance and scrounging his memory of this neighborhood, Suzaku burst through the jagged glass, for once thankful for the cloak, coat, and mask of Zero's guise. He landed in a roll on the small, unsteady balcony across the street. Before he had a chance to take to his feet, bullets ripped through the wood from the soldiers stationed in the alley below, one grazing his right calf in a bee sting burst of pain. He had clapped his already bloody hand to the wound when the wood gave a gut-wrenching shriek, sending his eyes flying wide.

Reacting with the inhuman speed that had granted him the Lancelot in what seemed centuries ago, he launched to his feet, jumping up to snatch the top of the frame of the small door that opened onto the balcony. Just as the wooden platform broke free from the shattered stone, Suzaku rammed his feet into the door, shooting through just in time to avoid the bullets whizzing by his head. His blood-soaked glove slipped on the sill, sending him crashing down in a heap in the dusty living room. He landed almost fully on his wounded shoulder, sending him careening towards the black. Fighting it off with a sweaty grip on his consciousness, Suzaku struggled against the retching that sent his ribcage into a spasming fit. Slipping to his feet, he limped over to the doorway, sidling up next to the empty frame as he listened for signs of his pursuers.

When the soft patter of their footsteps drifted up through the floors, Suzaku squeezed his eyes closed, and thought to himself very clearly, _"I'm going to die."_ Even more adrenaline gushed through his system, wiping out the drum beat of pain in his shoulder and the sassy tinkle of hurt in his leg. Moving with the economical movements of a man no longer truly in control of himself, he jogged down the hallway, hardly limping as his blood splattered against the wood floor scarred by time, war, and death. Clambering out another window, he took to the roof, seamlessly leaping from one building to another as he built his speed. His long legs pumped without fault, his iconic coat trailing dramatically. Even though his old injuries, broken ribs and torn ligaments and countless others, ached vehemently, his brain registered none of it.

The sniper and his spotter took to the roof of a building three blocks east of their original position. The man with the gun still thirsted for a chance to redeem himself; he would never be able to face his CO if his didn't at least wing his target again. His sharp eyes scanned the horizon, crinkling at the corners in a sharp smile when a black figure on the rooftops started running back west. He would cut across to their right in about twenty seconds.

Dropping down to his stomach, the sniper readied his weapon, his eye already trained through the scope before his elbows hit concrete. The bones of residential buildings had given way to giant craters, some as broad as a field while others were narrow and drilled down to London's ancient sewers. The spotter's joking was gone – he knew that his sniper had the chops to make the shot and finish the mission, especially after the tactical team had run down their target for a while. And with the sting of the first failure burning his ass? He'd be unstoppable.

Zero sprinted along the rooftops, hardly pausing when he had to jump or dodge. The sniper narrowed his eyes – he sure wasn't moving like a man who had taken a bullet. Carefully adjusting for a moving target, he narrowed his eyes slightly, and was about to exhale and pull the trigger when Zero suddenly tumbled through the weak roof of one of the buildings, still visible since that facing wall was all but gone. He rolled like a ball before taking to his feet without pause, moving with a feline grace that belied his injury. The small pops of gunfire warned the sniper that the tactical team was closing in, their bullets thudding into the building's gray, flaking bones. They were all but herding Zero to him.

Clearly preferring the roof to running closer to the tactical team bullets, Zero made his way back to the skyline, moving more like a cat than a man. He made his way to a stand of rebar that had once been a building, black fingers of metal tangled as they reached for the sky. This time, the sniper didn't waste his time – on the slow exhale, he squeezed the trigger. He could tell by the jerk of Zero's shoulders that his bullet had found its target.

Suzaku stuttered to a halt, bending over as he gasped violently. He didn't think it was possible, but his Geass command was being overridden by too much pain. It would seem that he could feel more than even the magic he had never really believed in could control. Black bubbled in his vision, and the thunder in his ears started to slow. He didn't feel his legs collapse, but he was vaguely aware of his eyes rolling back as his knees hit the narrow beam he stood on and sent him tumbling into the bowels of the building.

The tactical team was quickly regrouping with the apparent termination of their target. The spotter clapped a hand to the sniper's shoulder as he finally popped the gum he'd been silently chewing the whole time. The sniper wordlessly watched Zero fall, limply crashing through the compromised floors and rotted beams with all the resistance of a rag doll without moving from his prone position. Zero's tattered and torn cloak cradled him, his limbs loose as he smacked against floors and beams until he eventually disappeared into the shadows cast by the building as the sun fell west. Pursing his lips as he heard the faint report of cracking bone, the sniper finally made his way to his knees. As he meticulously policed his brass, he could swear that he heard the faint splash of water. But he couldn't be sure.

* * *

_Argh._

_This story has commanded my life. I'm not even really sure I want to watch CG, but I have no choice if I want to be sure that some of the stuff I'm bringing up later is even right. I'm not even sure I want to delve into the mire that Suzaku's brain had devolved into._

_I have a novel to write, damn it._

_But it has gripped me in its hold. I can't stop thinking about it. _So Long Sentiment_ by Celldweller almost brought me to tears repeatedly,as it's the song to a really good CG AMV. Like painful, sit in your chest tears. I don't want to listen to it, but I have to! Is this what addiction feels like? I don't even feel that good, but a little catharsis (aka, this chapter) seems to let me deal with it a little better. I can't wait to introduce Aurora. This story seems so dark, so unhealthy, and my novel has huge incidents of child abuse. Way to be, Geass. Gah. I need someone with a little light, a little hope, a little health. So does Suzaku, I guess._

_Yes, I shamelessly used a couple sentences from _BBGE_. And I'm going to do it again next chapter. I don't think you can plagiarize yourself – can you?_

_I didn't think I would have to say this, but if you want to see more chapters sooner, review. I am a hugely review-driven author, and since I'm also working on a novel, I will need some incentive to pay attention to Phoenix. Up to you guys._

_Hope you like it!_

_Love, Tango_


	3. White Lady

Back before Britannia had driven England into the ground before the empire had decided the little cluster of islands wasn't worth its time, Harlesden had been the ugliest suburb of London. It had been a place where cracks in the night didn't mean a car backfiring, even if you couldn't keep yourself from hoping it was. Aurora Sterling hadn't lived here long – just long enough to learn the rhythm, and how to survive in it. She was returning from London proper with medical supplies, her old navy blue Jeep loaded with antibiotics and sterile syringes and gauze.

Her lean gray dog, Bannock, sat on the front seat a little precariously, his black snout tipped to the wind rushing by. He preferred the back, but Aurora didn't want him rooting through the supplies, which were literally worth their weight in gold. He looked over at her, and let out a plaintive whine.

"I know, I know. Hush, you big baby. We'll be home soon," she soothed. Just as she turned to head north, the dim pops of gunfire echoed from the west. Ban's ears, normally laid back against his neck, popped straight up, huge cups that had initially won Aurora's heart when the puppy had come begging to her door. "Shit," Aurora muttered under her breath as she jerked the wheel. Harlesden – most of the ghetto, in fact – subsisted on as little violence as possible. And the Empire's forces was far from welcome. What the hell was going on?

She stomped on the brakes when a military unit raced in front of her on foot, the men dressed in combat gear, and the rifles in their hands big enough to look unreal. They hardly spared her a glance, their chins lifted as their eyes were trained upwards. Frowning in confusion, she followed their gaze, and felt her jaw drop when the unmistakable figure of Zero leapt from one rooftop to another. What was he doing here? And why were Britannian soldiers chasing him?

Making a split decision that had always made her half-brother roll his eyes, she slapped the Jeep into reverse, swerving down a side street that paralleled Zero's route. It looked like he was heading for the Bones – so named for the three apartment buildings that had been reduced to metal sticks and ash. The Bones were also known for the pond that had gathered in the center of the ring of barely standing buildings. The explosion that had destroyed the block had broken the sewer lines – storm water, luckily. It had the feel of the gathering of blood in a bruise—the same sadness and pain.

Trying to keep her distance while holding Zero's thin figure in her sight, Aurora veered through the rubble and abandoned buildings. She was no stranger to gunfire, but the cracks still sent shivers down her spine. Finally, her superior speed and knowledge of the ghetto allowed Aurora to get ahead of Zero and his pursuers, and she slid into a patch of shade well in the depths of the wasted structures. Bringing the Jeep to a stop, she twisted in her seat to get another scope of the situation from where she was parked behind several large chunks of metal, flesh that had been bitten off the building with ravenous teeth. It took a moment to catch Zero's slim, black silhouette in the afternoon sun. She unconsciously sucked in a breath when Zero tripped, or jumped, down to the next level, smiling a bit when he leapt back up like a panther. For some reason, he was struggling to stay on the rooftops, already clambering back up another level.

She blinked at the single shot, but slammed out of the Jeep as Zero stumbled to a stop, commanding over her shoulder in a low, no-nonsense tone for Bannock to stay. The hound wagged his tail hopefully before lying down on the front seats with a sigh, his nose buried in his paws as his eyes watched his mistress lope away. When Zero went limp and started to fall through the building's weak innards, Aurora clenched her jaw, scrambling down through the rubble, remnants of the deadly playtime of those who fancied themselves gods. He was either dead or unconscious. Either way, he would sink like a rock when he hit the deep lake of water pooled in the crater left from the blow that had destroyed most of the building.

Just as she reached the edge of the murky water, Zero slammed into the pool, water geysering up like a fountain at his impact. Without a heartbeat of hesitation, she dove into the freezing water. Stroking strongly down after the glimmer of his mask, Aurora tried to fight against the burn in her eyes as she desperately chased Zero's descent, urged faster by his dead weight and the unlikelihood of much air in his lungs. She had originally intended to grab body mass—hooking her hands under his arms or wrapping her arms around his waist—but seconds were ticking away. Aurora's lungs were starting to burn, and Zero was falling faster and faster into the depths of the water. Compromising, she buried a hand in his trailing cloak, praying that it didn't rip or snap under his weight.

The rise back to the surface was much harder, draining Aurora's strength as she fought against gravity, dragging a dead weight to the surface that physics would be all too happy to sink to the bottom. She could see the black ink of his blood in the water, and feel the creeping give of his cloak. Just when she broke the surface with a desperate heave of her lungs, the cloak ripped. Sucking in air frantically, she dove back down before he could fall any further, hooking one arm around his chest before kicking again for the surface. Frantic bubbles broke free, popping around the length of black, blood-soaked silk that floated eerily on the surface. Her breath exploded as she broke through the water, oxygen tumbling down her throat into her starved lungs. Panting without reserve, she adjusted her grip on Zero, trying to keep his head above water as best as she could. The blood staining the water made her stomach tighten.

Aurora had been treading water, trying to get her breath back, for only a moment, when the voices of the military echoed from the streets. She had maybe another thirty seconds before they picked their way through the rubble. They wanted Zero dead; she wasn't entirely amenable to that decision, especially considering she had almost drowned dragging his sorry hide to the surface. Her opinion of Empire operations was historically not a kind one. Whipping her head around, frantically looking for a hiding place, she knew she was too far away from the edge to get them out of the pool of water in time. Not to mention, they'd leave a trail of water whichever way they went. Then, Aurora noticed a sort of overhang crafted from several slabs of concrete that draped down to the water's surface. Hurriedly striking out in a scissor stroke, she had barely begun her dive when the first members of the tactical team came within sight of the pond.

It was a gamble – if she was wrong about how to get into the protected overhang, they would drown or be shot. She wasn't quite sure which one she preferred. As Aurora pushed through the water, the light dimming as she went deeper, creeping thoughts of Zero's stillness and continued blood loss tried to bubble to the forefront. With a disciplined effort, she pushed them back, focusing on swimming when the light all but disintegrated as she slipped under the jut of man-made stone. The cold was leeching the strength from her muscles, her limbs jerking with shivers as she lost feeling in her fingers and feet.

Moving for the surface and tiny glimmer of light with everything she had, she fought to breathe quietly but deeply once she surfaced into a tiny air pocket that reminded her of a goblin's cave. Her legs already aching from the effort, she slowly stroked closer to a hole in the concrete where she could barely make out the shoreline where the military personnel stood. Towing Zero after her, fruitlessly readjusting her grip to lessen the burn in her arms, Aurora struggled to hear the soldiers talking over the ramming drumbeat of her heart.

One of them pointed to the length of silk lapping against the far shoreline, and Aurora prayed hard and fast that Ban would stay in the car, and stay quiet. They fished the cloak out of the water while several men perused the concrete around the rim, one soldier walking directly over Aurora and her wounded passenger. Holding her breath with an effort against her rampant shivering, she watched the men finally gather back with the group, shrugging their shoulders and shaking their heads. Finally one man shoved back his black sunglasses, producing a radio from his vest and speaking into it around the crackle and squeal of static. After listening for a moment, he nodded again, and with a swing of his arm, called for his men to follow as they picked their way free of the rubble.

Aurora counted to thirty before heaving a breath into her hitching lungs and diving back down into the water. It was slow, horrible going, and every few moments, her instincts would flash red warnings in her brain – _not enough air!_ Struggling against herself, she fought against the urge to drag in a breath until her hand broke through the surface of the water. Clapping her hand over her mouth, she watched the cluster of rubble as she gasped, stroking for the edge once she heard the dim roar of a motor as the unit drove away.

She managed to flop herself and Zero onto a submerged ledge, dragging him out of the water before collapsing down to kneel next to him. Aurora frowned as she felt the edges of the mask, keeping her eyes purposefully averted from the huge wound seeping blood in his left shoulder. She would deal with that when the time came. Meanwhile, she couldn't seem to find a catch, and if she didn't get the damn thing off his head, all her work would have been for nothing. Finally abandoning the back of the mask, her fingers trailed against the edges of the glass of the face plate. Rather accidentally, her left index finger found a shallow depression where his right ear would be. Pressing it gently, the mask's back withdrew upward, leaving it free to pull off as trapped water splashed out. Lifting it quickly, Aurora tossed it away before yanking down the black fabric that covered the lower half of his face. Well, damn. Who would have thought Zero was so bloody good-looking?

Recovering herself quickly, Aurora checked Zero's pulse and lowered her ear to his mouth. Damn. No pulse, and he wasn't breathing. Just her luck. After tilting his head back and pressing her lips to his sculpted, cold ones, blowing oxygen into his lungs, she quickly settled her threaded hands on his sternum, blood creeping back into her stiff limbs as she began the hard work of keeping someone from death's door. Thirty quick pounds on his chest, then again give his blood something to circulate. Repeat until he started breathing.

She didn't count how many rounds it took—Aurora became lost in the motion, in the repetition. Finally, Zero's heart and lungs took, oxygen rushing in like floodwaters when his lungs broke their protective seal. His chest convulsed, his whole body tightening upwards like a bow as his eyes blindly flashed open. Aurora pushed him over as he vomited the nasty sewer drain water that had made it into his system, coughing and sputtering all throughout.

"That's it. Deep breaths now. Easy, big guy, it'll be alright," Aurora murmured in a soothing voice one usually used with the young or the ill as she ran a gentle hand up and down his back, trying to comfort him as his body came shockingly back to life. He was still cold as a block of ice under his clothes, too chilled to yet begin shivering.

Zero rolled onto his back eventually, his glittering green eyes glazed under half closed, heavily lashed lids as his breath stuttered in and out, still unsteady and jagged. His skin had a blue sheen to it, and when Aurora subtly pressed her fingers to the inside of his wrist, his pulse was jerky and his skin freakishly icy.

"Did I…die?" he gasped, his chest rising and falling swiftly as his system skittered like a spooked horse. Hope strangely rang in his tone.

"Maybe for a while, but not while I'm around," she said with a soft smile, but was shocked when his eyes narrowed, his mouth twisting into a cruel snarl. Aurora was concerned about his reaction, but the red ring around his jade irises alarmed her even more. It had nothing to do with enlargement of the capillaries in his eyes and everything to do with the clothes and mask he wore.

"You should have just let me die," he rasped, trying to push himself up.

"Whoa, you must be joking," Aurora said quickly as she caught his shoulder. She didn't want to muscle him back down, not with the bruising or breaking his ribs probably incurred through the process of keeping him alive, not to mention his other injuries. So she held him until the pain was too great and he had to relax back. His words rocked her, straight to the core. She knew pain, and she knew what it was to question your ability to survive what you had no choice but to live on. But a blatant death wish was something entirely different.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Aurora saw the light die from his eyes, and it had nothing to do with losing consciousness. It had everything to do with something he had already lost. He raised one gloved hand, pressing his fingers to his eyes. Aurora took the opportunity to reach for his left arm to inspect his wounds, her fingers barely brushing the fabric of his sleeve when her wrist was suddenly locked in a stunningly strong grip.

Checking the urge to tug or defend, Aurora reached out with a gentle hand, brushing back the wet, wavy chestnut hair that was falling into his eyes. "It's OK," she murmured, again using the soft voice of a caretaker. "I'm sorry. Just let it go." She could sense his muscles slowly starting to relax, could see his vision starting to cloud as he reluctantly welcomed unconsciousness. "Let it go, Suzaku." His pretty eyes, now without their eerie ring of red, rolled back as he succumbed to the dark, his whole body going limp. His long fingers loosed their grip, slowly sliding along her skin until her wrist was freed. Certain that he was fully out, Aurora moved quickly, slinging his right arm over her shoulder as she wrapped an arm around his lean waist. It wasn't easy, picking his dead weight up, about as easy as it had been to drag him through water, especially with her muscles still rubbery.

"Of course you have to be built like a machine," Aurora muttered to the unconscious Suzaku as she struggled with his trim, muscled frame, her system weakened from the difficult swim in freezing water. Blood from his shoulder quickly soaked her left hand, leaving the hairs on the back of her neck raised. Oh yeah, she'd recognized the once infamous Knight of Zero. Everyone had thought him dead—his white Knightmare had exploded in a battle fending off those after Lelouch's life, hadn't it? Well, if she didn't move fast enough, the resurrected Knight that had taken the mask of his namesake would wind up dead.

She dragged him over to her jeep, freeing Ban from his command with a whistle and a jerk of her head. The dog leapt free of the car, sniffing the hem of Suzaku's pants and rooing once low in his throat. Aurora draped the unconscious man across the front seat, taking a second to get her breath back. Gathering herself, she quickly removed his gloves, overcoat, cravat, waistcoat, and blood-stained white linen shirt. The black body suit was easy enough to tear, even if the sound of rending fabric made shivers dance along her spine. Removing soaking wet, tightly fitted clothes from an unconscious man was hard enough—the fact that it was the complicated style of nobility would have made it impossible if Aurora wasn't already painfully familiar with that fashion of dress.

"Oh, boy," she whispered, the words trembling a little on her tongue at the sight of the wounds once she had finished undressing most of him. His toned, cold chest left bare, the insult of the injuries to his shoulder and arm seemed all the more violent against his pale skin. The bruising on his chest, both from her attempt to bring him back to life and the fall through the building, was already blooming dark, ugly colors.

Catching the tail of the overcoat between her teeth, she mercilessly ripped the fabric, tearing the garment in two. His waistcoat received the same treatment. She carefully lifted his left shoulder from back against the seat, bunching one length against the entry wound and half the waistcoat against his collarbone before winding the other half of the coat around his shoulder. Tucking it closed as best as she could manage, she wound the other half of the waistcoat around his shattered arm, saving the cravat for the mean slice on his calf.

Deeming it the best she could do under the circumstances, Aurora jogged back to the pool, kicking the mask into the water before tossing his gloves and shirt after them. The mask would make Zero's death appear more convincing, and was apparently a dangerous thing to be caught with. Kneeling at the edge of the pool, she washed the copious amount of blood from her hands. Despite scrubbing roughly, she was painfully aware there was nothing she could do about the crimson stains on the cuffs of her sleeves.

Standing and glancing around, she was satisfied that the investigators would find nothing but some puddles of blood that were easily explainable when they arrived to confirm their target's death. Zero had survived the fall, dragged himself out of the water, and died here. Scavengers took what was deemed valuable, and he had a beggar's funeral. A plausible enough story. Quickly making her way back to the vehicle, she dug an old gray blanket and a grungy, torn jacket from the back of the jeep, tucking the blanket around Suzaku before sliding the seat back and buckling the seat belt.

Snapping her fingers and calling his name as she pulled on the jacket, she ushered Ban onto the floor in front of Suzaku's seat. Urging the reluctant dog to lay down practically on the wounded man's lap, she hoped that the dog's body heat would help fend off the hypothermia before it got any worse. Running to the other side of the car once she closed the passenger door, she jumped in, starting the car and sending it rushing over the shattered landscape with familiarity and anxiety.

Finally making her way back to the main streets, she automatically started steering for Kendra's clinic. Aurora noticed that the sun was dropping, painting the sky in bloody colors. Letting her mind wander as they drew closer home, she couldn't help but question why this had all happened in the first place.

Zero had been one of the Empress's most trusted advisors, along with her half-brother Schneizel. So why were covert soldiers, bearing the accepted insignia of the Empire, attacking someone who knew where the Empress slept, when she woke, and how many threats had been made on her life since her coronation? It seemed stupid, or perhaps accidental.

Or desperate. So who was so desperate to get Zero out of the way that they manipulated Zero's death sentence to come from the Empress herself, the highest of commands and the only voice calling for the hero's death that would be heard? Aurora didn't think that Nunnally herself had willingly ordered Zero's death. She had seen the two together—sometimes, when she thought no one was watching, the Empress clutched Zero's hand almost to the point of making the bones of his hand grind. The grief in her eyes then would be so tangible, Aurora had to swallow back tears. Then, with a flash, she was normal, collected, and smiling gracefully. It didn't take Aurora's gift to see that she missed her brother to the point of her soul's implosion.

So why rid herself of the one person that she drew the most comfort from when her heart hurt the greatest? Nunnally hadn't ordered his death; someone was manipulating the Empress in a bid to be rid of her strongest protection.

And there was of course the question as to how, and why, Suzaku had become Zero. She had watched the television broadcast of Zero's public claim of responsibility for Clovis' death. He had faced Suzaku across the dawning of a revolution, watching as the then-prisoner was choked out of his words. So that begged the question who the real Zero was, and why Suzaku was wearing the garb of the Black Knight leader. And who was it that had killed Lelouch?

She glanced over at her still unconscious passenger, the fading light throwing his carved cheekbones into relief, the shadows under his eyes and in his cheeks making him appear haggard and broken. If for no other reason, Kururugi had better survive. He had a lot of questions to answer.

* * *

_And so the changes continue. Aurora's a little more hardcore, and a little less forgiving and sentimental. Don't worry, that comes later. Bannock replaces Chaos for now, and I'm OK with that. _

_After NDK this weekend, I got revved from AMV music, and decided to finish this chapter off. With the simpler, deeper storyline, I should be able to get farther into this story than I did on_ BBGE_. _

_I'm starting to get the feeling that I won't be able to even consider watching the rest of CG without finishing this – the intense injustice of Suzaku's fate seriously haunts me. Once I feel like that's been balanced, maybe I can handle it. This is the most bizarre relationship I've ever had with an anime._

_Again, review, review! Keep in mind that I have about ten other projects I'm working on simultaneously._

_Hope you like it!_

_Love, Tango_


	4. Dog Food

Confident that she was far enough away from any military personnel to risk breaking radio silence, Aurora snagged the vintage hand-held resting in one of the cupholders as she motored along the ragged streets. The ghosts of Harlesden were poking their heads out from their dens, interested and wary of a vehicle moving so fast. When she glanced over at Bannock, who had ended up folding his incredibly long limbs awkwardly and resting his head on Suzaku's knee, his ears perked, his liquid brown eyes connecting with hers like they were seeing her soul. Damn dog, she thought to herself with a reluctant smile as she hailed Kendra. Silly thing was crazier than a two-headed hen, but he did love her more than life itself. He'd proven that a long time ago. When Kendra responded, Aurora settled into the old code they had established when they'd first arrived in London, paranoid teenagers who had everything to hide and nothing to prove.

"Hey, Kendra, I found a hurt dog while I was out. I think I'll call him Stanley, over," she said quickly, the name the indication of an injured human under code, not a real dog, which was an entirely realistic possiblity. Aurora could hear the whistled steam of the doctor's sigh.

"You know I don't have room for any more strays. Over."

"I know. But you're going to want to help this one. I think he's got a hell of a pedigree. Who knows, his owner might be rich enough to get us a reward. Over." A reward had nothing to do with it – Aurora was warning Kendra that their potential patient was someone well known.

"What's wrong with him? Over," she finally asked after letting the radio squawk for a few moments.

"His shoulder and front leg are totally jacked up – I think he might have been hit by a car. Or shot. Back leg's a little mangled. He almost drowned when he fell into the Bones pool. Damn if that wasn't a project getting him out. Over."

"Jesus, Aurora. My O.R. is a joke. How bad is it? Over." Aurora glanced over at the translucent paleness of Suzaku's skin, the red haze rapidly spreading along her rushed bandages. His head bounced limply as she shot over a break in the road that was practically a ditch.

"Pretty fuckin' bad," Aurora murmured in return. Kendra muttered something under her breath as she waited for the younger woman to say "over." It sounded vaguely like "goddamn idiot pain in the ass," but Aurora chose to ignore it with a crooked smile. Suddenly remembering, she said "Over," as an afterthought.

"Who hurt him? Poachers? Over." Their code for scum squirming in from other parts of the city to get a piece of the shattered action. They usually slunk away after a while, disappointed with the lack of the good shit. Refrain, or worse. Older, uglier, dirtier drugs that used to flood the streets. Now their waves of corruption were little better than a memory, only the twisted corpses of used needles melted by explosions left as a reminder. Little twisted bones that had dug into the concrete of the gutters, fragments of humanity at its worst.

"Nah. Hunters. With big, expensive guns. Over." No one would hunt a dog in this part of town, but that was part of the brilliance of their code. On one hand, it was perfectly believable; on the other, it was completely ridiculous. So to whoever was tuning in, the challenge was deciphering which part was the truth. When, in fact, nothing but the details mattered.

"Christ," Kendra growled. Since she didn't say "over," and was much more conscientious about it than Aurora, the blonde waited. She could hear the rattling of Kendra prepping her hodge-podge O.R. in the background. "How far out are you? Over."

"Under ten minutes away. Over."

"Are you and Ban OK? Over." Aurora smiled as the first hints of stars started to break out into the sky, delicate drops of light that seemed fragile against the frame of ruins.

"He's peachy. That swim to get Stanley out was a bitch, and I'll be cold for another fucking week. But otherwise, I'm fine. Over." Taking a turn a little fast, she calculated that the jeep was only five minutes away from the clinic, tops.

"Hypothermia? Over," Kendra asked. Aurora knew she didn't need to clarify who she was asking about. She had warned the doctor to give her time to prep for surgery, and get her mind focused on her patient. Soon enough, Aurora would be just a vehicle to ensure Suzaku's arrival, nothing more. At least until the surgery was over.

"Probably. Lots of blood loss, more broken bones than I want to guess at, and possible damage from near-drowning. He's a mess, Kendra. You always did like puzzles. Over," she said cheerfully, her tires squealing a little as she shot around an intersection, the traffic light still hanging by a thread above the street. It hadn't changed colors in years.

"Yeah, but broken meat puzzles can mess with a girl's game. Over." Aurora chuckled at Kendra's dark joke, typical of her attitude but completely contradictory to her personal code.

"You'll have your chance. I'm coming up to the back. Be ready to help – he's heavy as hell. Over and out." Already tossing the radio back into its home in the console, she didn't even hear Kendra's "over and out" as she wrestled the jeep into a tight, hot turn it had no business making. Coming to a stop that not even the generous would have labeled smooth practically on top of Kendra's toes, Aurora leapt over the back of the car, her longs legs doing her credit as she landed like a ballerina and ripped open the passenger door. Ban jumped out like a sprinter at the gun when Aurora gave him the command, long, gangly legs dancing as the two women muscled the successor of Zero out of the car.

Physically, they couldn't have been any more different. One was tall and willowy, her hair the color of honey and blue eyes starred with silver that saw into the soul. The other had the explosive curves and dark, spiraling curls of a gypsy, brown eyes flecked with gold that were blade keen behind small glasses. But they both bore the burden of illegitimacy and persecution like oxen, spines of steel and stomachs of iron behind soft skin and lovely bone structure. They were no one to trifle with, and neither had yet seen a quarter of a century.

Speaking in the short hand of familiarity – mostly grunts and jerks of the head – the two women managed to get Suzaku inside quickly and unnoticed. Hauling him to the second floor was no pleasure cruise, but they got it done in less than two minutes. Knowing he was barred from the O.R., Ban paced in the hallway, anxious and adorable. Kendra allowed Aurora to help her arrange Suzaku on the operation table, going over him in a quick inspection with her magic doctor vision that told her more information than the blonde layman could hope to relay. Nodding once sharply, she shooed Aurora out, turning back to Suzaku and ripping his purple and gold pants off in a maneuver Aurora was fairly certain she'd honed on her husband Chandler. Shocked and hysterical, Kendra had to physically shove her cackling friend out the door, shutting it mercilessly in her face like a melodrama.

The crack of wood against wood abruptly halted her laughing, and Aurora stood for a moment, her feet glued to the spotted but clean floor. It looked like the strain and insanity of the situation was getting to her a little. When a warm pressure bloomed against her leg, she looked down to see Ban leaning against her, his head tipped up and his ears half-cocked. Kneeling down, she scrubbed his ears and neck, Ban tipping his big head into the pressure with a contented grunt.

"And now," she said with a sigh. "We wait." Never one to wait sitting still, Aurora trotted back downstairs, trying to keep her mind off Stanley and his reluctant surgeon as she unloaded the jeep. By the time she was washing the blood off the seats and changing her clothes into something warm and not blood-stained after a quick, scalding shower, she had accepted the fact that she would throw up if she ate anything. Nerves were not normally an issue for her, but the idea that Kendra was currently tearing Suzaku apart and stitching him back together made her stomach want to fly out of her mouth and do a tap dance.

Still running a little hot, Aurora checked on the few patients they had on the main floor to wave off any questions as to the ruckus and ask if they needed anything. Everyone else had headed home for the day, and Chandler had yet to return from London proper. Finally running out of things to do, she made her way to the part of the clinic where she, Kendra, and Chandler lived.

As she plopped down on the extremely ugly but very comfortable couch in one of the back rooms, one foot tapping out a violent beat while Ban hopped up and settled next to her legs, Aurora tipped her head up and glared at the ceiling. Since she was still cold despite her shower and warm, ratty sweater, she burrowed under one of her blankets she had dragooned from her room, a giant fleecy monstrosity of stone gray that held heat like another layer of fat. Before long, and completely by accident, she fell asleep.

Aurora woke up when someone sat on her leg. Already snarling like a hyena as her eyes slitted open, she was surprised to find Ban, her usual suspect, conveniently squashed between her legs and the back of the couch. Kendra was the one currently crushing her right leg.

"What bones are in your calf?" Aurora growled. Absently rubbing at the headache pounding in her temples, Kendra didn't look up.

"Tibia and fibula," she said quietly, folding a piece of gum into her mouth in order to expunge the last of the tension.

"Yeah, well, you're breaking mine. Mind getting off?" When she didn't move, Aurora bucked her off, the aggressive ripple of muscle shocking coming from such a slim frame. Plopping down on the cushion awkwardly, Kendra winced with a crooked grin as Aurora whipped the blanket off and scooted up a little. Ban remained buried under the blanket, the only thing visible the tip of his black nose.

Forcing herself out of her usual post-sleep funk, Aurora pulled her hair free from the mangled tail she had slept in, scraping it back into a clean ponytail. Once finished, her hair rained down between her shoulder blades, the ends brushing against the sofa arm. In direct contrast, Kendra pulled her hair from the ponytail she'd tamed it into during surgery, running fingers along her scalp to relieve the pressure as her rioting waves bounced free. As the doctor continued to hold her silence, Aurora eventually prompted her.

"Is he dead?" Glancing over at her friend before freeing Bannock from his cocoon, Kendra shook her head as she stroked her fingertips over the incredibly soft fur on Ban's skull.

"No, he's not dead." Since she didn't elaborate, Aurora sighed.

"Walk me through it, Kendra dear." Her lack of response to the blonde's playful tone warned Aurora that whatever it was, it wasn't good. Even if Suzaku wasn't dead, he might still wish he was.

"Multiple gunshot wounds. The nasty one through his shoulder cracked the scapula and fractured the clavicle. Luckily, the bullet caught the edges of the bones instead of blowing through them like a rock through glass. The muscle around the bullet's path was turned to hamburger, but I just had to fish out a few bone fragments from the shoulder blade and wire together his collarbone so it doesn't snap the first time he lifts his arm." Kendra swiped a hand over her tired eyes, and wished vaguely for a cigarette. She didn't smoke. She never had. When Aurora pressed a glass of bad wine into her hand, she smiled with a sigh as her friend dropped down next to her. She hadn't even noticed Aurora get up and move into the neighboring kitchen, or return. The woman's stealth was pretty spooky.

"The second one caught him square in the middle of his left humurus. Talk about hamburger. If anymore of his muscles had been severed, his arm would have just fallen off. It's like the bone exploded. He might, _might_, mind you, regain full use of his arm since I had that brace and screw set that I've been hauling around practically since med school. He'll already be in a sling for months just from the clavicle injury, but with this… He's going to need major physical therapy to keep his entire upper left side from atrophying, as he's in for a hell of a recovery period." Aurora had known Kendra long enough to know that the last thing she would say she wanted right now was physical contact. So when the blonde rubbed a hand over her tense shoulder, Kendra couldn't help the snort. Only Chan and Aurora touched her when she didn't want to be touched – maybe that was why she loved them so much.

"The last one on his calf was pretty shallow – cut through a couple layers of muscle, but shouldn't impede him too much once he's all healed up. The guy racked up quite the count of stitches. Did you see him experience any major blunt trauma?" Finding her throat dry, Kendra swallowed a sip of the sour wine.

"You mean besides falling through about five floors of the Bones and me performing CPR to keep him from drowning? Nothing that I know of." Too exhausted to reprimand or laugh at Aurora's humor, she nodded.

"That makes sense. Massive rib fractures, and only the best sort of luck keeps him from having a nasty case of flail chest. His sternum was cracked, although I don't know if that's from the fall or your CPR. Spot on job, by the way. You were pretty hard on him, but from what I could see, the brain damage should be minimal." Rubbing her cramping hands on her knees, Kendra leaned back, forgetting about the large dog sitting behind her. He just lifted his head, then dropped it back down as he seamlessly went back to sleep.

"He's got some pretty bad tendon injuries in his right wrist and ankles. I can't be sure yet whether or not they're breaks until I get him into London for some x-rays." She didn't see Aurora shake her head slightly as she pursed her lips. "The guy's bruised like he's been painted. I'm guessing he's got some pulmonary contusions – lung bruises," she clarified at Aurora's raised brow, "but, again, I won't know until we get him x-rayed. It's weird, though. With all of his other extensive blunt force injuries, I would have thought for sure his skull would be cracked open like a melon. But his head's relatively untouched." Hurriedly chugging a gulp of water from the bottle she had snagged when she'd gotten Kendra her hard-earned wine, Aurora breathed deeply once.

"That's because he was wearing Zero's mask when this all happened." For a second, Kendra wasn't sure what happened; either her tired brain was just making shit up, or had fried the message her ears had picked up.

"What?" she managed, croaking a little. Aurora ran a hand over her hair then down the long tail, sighing heavily.

"He was in Zero's get-up, the whole nine yards. I don't think he _is_ Zero, but…"

"Oh, my God, are you telling me I just performed surgery on Zero? _The _Zero?!"

"I said I didn't think it was him," Aurora quickly interjected. "Don't you recognize the man you stitched up?" Kendra's brows furrowed. "Well, I guess you were spending a lot of time in Ireland with Chandler when most of that crap went down. Your cottage doesn't have TV, does it?" The doctor mutely shook her head, staring into her wine like it held the answers to the universe. "That sucker upstairs is Suzaku Kururugi." He had so many titles, it was hard to pick just one. But Aurora saw that she didn't need to clarify – Kendra knew the name. Her dark eyes went wide with recognition and shock.

"Shit, you're right."

"So riddle me this. How the hell did he," she nodded towards the ceiling, "end up with Zero's shit when the entire world saw the broadcast of Suzaku exiling every Zero, not to mention every battle they've spent screaming at each other? Besides the fact that the last time I checked, the Knight of Zero was dead and buried." Kendra shook her head, too wiped out to even begin to formulate an answer. All she could do was think of more questions.

"Even if he is Zero, who would have the balls to hunt down the most untouchable human in the entire world?"

"The usual punk-ass suspects. Britannian soldiers."

"You're joking."

"Not this time, sunshine. That stupid insignia was on every one of their shoulders. And they moved like soldiers – unified, trained, and fucking fearless." Kendra's groggy mind ground to life, her eyes searching the middle distance behind the thin lenses of her wire-rimmed glasses.

"Only Nunnally could possibly have the clout to order his covert execution and have it followed through." Aurora nodded – she may be exhausted after surgery, but Kendra's brain was still sharp as a buck knife. The doctor finally looked up from her wineglass, looking into Aurora's blue steel eyes. "But she wouldn't do that. Would she?" Aurora didn't hesitate.

"No, I don't think she would. Which means someone's messing with her very fragile regime right now, and her most staunch protector and supporter almost got ripped apart for his troubles." Kendra started shaking her head, stopping Aurora's quickly heating fervor.

"You can't get involved in this, Rora. I know you're used to being the one with all the answers, all the exit-strategies, but you've got a price on your head in at least seven different countries. You go back into the fold, and they'll cut you down before you make the first phone call." Aurora knew she was right, knew that Kendra was concerned for her life. But it grated to let such a thing go, especially when it threatened Nunnally. Swallowing old habits back, old habits that burned bitter anyway, Aurora shook her head with an edgy smile.

"Don't worry, Kendra. I left that life behind for a reason. It's bad for my health, and my head. I have no intention of fixing anyone's life, ever again. Not when it almost cost me my own. But the question is, what do we do with him?" Again, she nodded to the ceiling. It was almost like Suzaku's name was too heavy for the air of the room.

"From what you said, I'd bet the government agencies have been alerted that Zero needs to be taken down quietly. Britannia's probably working itself into a lather, and if they wanted it announced to the public, well. A, no one would listen, and B, we'd have heard about it by now." At Aurora's raised brows, Kendra tapped her left ear, the angle of her head concealing the ear bud. "I've been listening to the coms since you contacted me. There's been no word about a hunt for Zero, or even any reason to think the world's opinion of him has changed. Do you think maybe the soldiers thought he was an imposter, and tried to kill him for it? He might even _be_ an imposter." Aurora's fingers started tapping against the arm of the sofa desperately in need of re-covering, a dynamic internal rhythm that manifested when things got complicated or difficult. It was a tell that had always cost her games as a child.

"There have been imposters before, and they've been dealt with gently. They just end up looking stupid when the real one hits the scene. Everyone wants to be a hero. But hunting him, _especially_ him, down like a dog just because he swirled on a black cape? I don't know. Dammit," she growled, suddenly growing angry. "I don't know _anything_! And it's starting to fuckin' piss me off!" The long fingers dancing over the sofa arm had curled into a fist, but were quickly smoothed out as she regained a measure of control. "We can't risk taking him into London or to another clinic. If a peep gets out, they'll swarm on this place like a pack of pissed off bees, and probably take us out for conspiring. So," she murmured as she calmed, "We keep him here. We hide him until he's well, and then get him the fuck back to Britannia. I don't want him hanging around here too long, and I'm worried what will happen to Nunnally if he really _is_ Zero and she's left defenseless without him." Kendra sighed.

"I'm about to burst your bubble," she warned. Aurora shrugged with a good-natured, crooked smile.

"Don't you always?"

"First off, don't let your sympathies get involved because he _might_ be Nunnally's protector. He could very well not be, and then we've saddled ourselves with an injured man who could easily be our death sentence for a lie. Secondly, it could take up to three months for his major injuries to heal. That's just for his bones to re-knit. With his other injuries, he could be out of commission from six months upwards of a year, if you figure in physical therapy to get him running up in top form so it's like nothing happened. If he really is Zero, how the hell are they going to explain a year long absence from the man who hasn't left Nunnally's side for more than two weeks since she took the throne? Not to mention, how are we supposed to hide someone for that length of time? I can't close down my clinic for this, Aurora." The blonde raised her hand.

"I would never ask you to, Kendra."

"Thanks for that. But I'm not done. You ready for the kicker? The former Knight of the Round and personal Knight to Princess Euphemia is addicted to heroin."

Aurora blinked once.

Twice.

The silence reigned with a heavy hand, the only sounds the two humans and dog breathing. Faintly, the beep of the machines attached to Suzaku upstairs echoed down the back stairs. Kendra hadn't expected to feel guilty telling Aurora. She hadn't known what she expected, but certainly not this. Not this intense look of shock and disappointment and pain. Dammit, she should have known that Aurora still harbored soft feelings for everyone from the old days. By extension, she had attached herself to the landmine of a human being upstairs. As her friend, it killed Kendra inside to see it.

"What? How… No, wait," she said, holding up a hand to stop her own words. "I trust your judgment. You know a hell of a lot more about this than I do. What do you suggest?"

"I don't know. I obviously don't have any heroin, or any replacement drugs to help with withdrawal. I can keep him sedated for now, but at some point, he's going to come out of the haze, and it's going to hit him like a freight train. It can get pretty rough. Not to mention dealing with the psychological damage that instigated the addiction in the first place." Kendra shook her head.

"I don't have the manpower to watch over an addict going through withdrawal. But I can't abandon him in good conscience, either. I _am_ a doctor." It was almost like she was grudgingly reminding herself.

"What's going to happen to him?" Kendra didn't like the breathy fear deep down in Aurora's tone.

"Besides the physical stuff, which can last anywhere from a couple of days to a week, we're probably going to see a suicide attempt from him. Depression is going to manifest fast and hard, and if this were any other scenario, I'd demand that he'd go into serious therapy. As it is, well… It's hard to say what the severity of his withdrawal will be. He's young, which makes the addiction that much more deep. But, if I had to guess, I'd say he's only been doing it for about six months. His body is holding up well, but it won't for much longer."

The women subsided into silence, their impressive minds and wills struggling to find a solution to the situation that wouldn't compromise their moral codes. For Aurora, it had once been a common quandary, and one she was used to facing. Kendra, however, wasn't quite as accustomed to playing such a dangerous game.

"Is the cottage empty?" Aurora said suddenly, referring to Chandler's family home in Ireland. It was often used as a refuge, as Ireland had been practically untouched for fifty years.

"Yes," Kendra said slowly, her eyes plastered on Aurora. "No. No, Aurora," she demanded as she realized what her friend was planning. "No way am I going to let you deal with him alone!"

"Well," Aurora said, standing with a windy sigh as Ban abandoned his position behind Kendra and leapt after his mistress. "That's what I'm going to do. Now, you can either help me, or you can ignore it. But my mind's made up. It's the best scenario for everyone involved. It'll be fine," she breezily soothed with a wave of her hand. Kendra shot to her feet, following Aurora into the kitchen as she refilled her water bottle.

"Absolutely not, Rora! I'm not going to abandon you with one of the most dangerous men in the world, who happens to be going through heroin withdrawal!"

"I can take care of him, Kendra, and myself. You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with," she added with a teasing grin. Kendra didn't think it was funny.

"Outsmarting nobles and wealthy scumbags is one thing; this is entirely another. If he goes ballistic, he could tear you apart, and there will be no one with you to stop him." Both of them remembered the musculature of their patient – his strength was nothing to trifle with.

"But he won't."

"You don't know that, Aurora." She was silent for a moment.

"Actually, I think I do," she said, very quietly. For a moment, she was utterly still, before shaking herself and smiling over at Kendra. "So what do you say? Can I take me and Stanley on a little rejuvenating vacation to the cottage?"

Kendra was worried. Intensely worried. Suzaku Kururugi had been dangerous when healthy – now he'd taken his mind and body as close to the brink as he could and still survive. Who knew what kind of threat he posed now, and what damage he could wreak if pushed over any edge. And the only one facing down that damaged potential for destruction was her best friend, alone and painfully hopeful. She sighed heavily.

"Bannock goes with you – no discussion." Aurora shrugged agreeably as she leaned back against the counter.

"Of course. The last time he saw Ireland, he was a puppy. I'm sure he misses it." Kendra pressed fingers to her temple, and wished childishly, and desperately, that her husband would come home.

"You'll want to leave as soon as possible. The more settled he is when those impressive surgery drugs wear off, the better. I'm not sure how you're going to get him through the checkpoints, though." Aurora smiled, and Kendra recognized the sly edge that spoke of old contacts and debts not yet paid.

"Don't worry about the checkpoints. I'll handle it. Just get me the keys to the cottage, and I'll handle the rest." As Aurora turned to walk away, Kendra caught her arm.

"Promise me something, Aurora." She nodded. "Please, be careful." Aurora opened her mouth to give a flippant yes when Kendra squeezed her arm. "Please." Closing her mouth, Aurora brought her hand to Kendra's shoulder before pulling her into a hug.

"I will," she murmured before releasing her friend and walking out of the room without a backward glance. Looking at her watch, Kendra squeezed her eyes shut, counting down the seconds until Chandler came back.

Pulling out her phone, Aurora called one of the members of the immigration services. Like all of the countless contacts and phone numbers filed away in her brain, she knew the number by heart.

"Hey, Frank. Yeah, it's Rory. I'm good, I'm good. Listen, Frank. You remember that favor you owe me? Well, I'm about to put you back in the black."

When she hung up the phone ten minutes later, safe passage had been booked for one Riley Seven and her brother, Sampson from the ferry out of Holyhead into Dublin. It would take just over three hours, where she would pick up a car in Dublin to drive them out to Galway County.

As she mounted the stairs, Aurora's mind quickly and meticulously ticked off the salient points of their departure. She had a myriad of passports to choose from, and Frank had procured her one for Suzaku. Since she had proven Frank innocent of a murder charge and gotten him back home to his two little girls, it was really the least he could do. He'd said as much over the phone.

The cottage was kept stocked by a local couple who didn't ask questions and were always available to help. She'd have to pick up some dog food on the way, though – Aurora didn't think the O'Tooles had planned on a visitor of the canine persuasion. She'd keep her packing light, and purchase whatever she and Suzaku needed in Galway. Aurora supposed that technically she would be considered a billionaire, if her funds weren't protected in deep black-out bank accounts across the globe. Regardless, she and Suzaku would want for nothing while they were in Ireland.

Pausing by the door to the OR, she silently eased it open as she leaned against the jamb. Kendra had put Suzaku on a ventilator – probably a good idea, considering the abuse his lungs had gone through. And since he'd already danced with death and a coma today, it was wise not to take any chances. An IV was riding the back of his hand like a clear beetle, giving instead of taking.

She could hardly tell the difference between the white bandages and his white skin. His closed eyes were shadowed by long lashes and deep bruises. His hair seemed the only healthy point of color – everything else was the angry red haloing stitches or the dense blur of bruising. His eyelids and fingertips twitched restlessly, probably drugged too deeply to get out of the dream.

Time to get out of the dream, Aurora thought to herself. And back to reality, no matter how much it sucked. Moving silently into the OR, the beep of the machines reminding the air that the man's heart still beat, she stopped by his bed. Tugging up the blanket a little, she brushed back the hair from his forehead, frowning a little at the way Suzaku's brow furrowed, an expression not of anger, but of pain.

"I've got questions," she murmured to the air. "And I think you're the only one with the answers. So you've got to get out of there, and you've got to let it go. Maybe, after, we can both move on." She left the OR as quietly as she entered it, the click of the door doing little to dim the mechanical metronome marking his heart.

Ban was waiting, sitting in the hall with a slightly tilted head. Satisfied that they were going to bed, he trotted ahead of her to her bedroom, settling on his bed while he waited to join her on the big one. But before she brushed her teeth and dropped under the warm comforter, she had one last phone call to make. Unpacking one of the dozen burner phones she kept on hand, Aurora again dialed by memory.

"Mmm-yello?"

"Lloyd? It's Rory." There was a loud bang, a muffled curse, several seconds of desperate scuffling, and the dim assurance to someone that everything was fine. When Asplund finally spoke again, he sounded winded, and slightly panicked.

"Rory! I – It's, uh, it's good… What do you want?" Smiling a little viciously as she sat on her bed, the moonlight beaming in through the window turning her hair sterling instead of golden, she tapped her fingers against her mouth.

"Wow, Lloyd. Maybe I just wanted to say hello."

"You never just want to say hello," he returned cynically. He did have a point.

"Fair enough. Listen-"

"You need a favor." His voice was flat, and uncharacteristically resigned.

"Maybe. You still owe me, Lloyd."

"As you never cease to remind me."

"Your debt _is_ rather extensive. I nearly got myself killed cleaning up your mess. You do enjoy practicing science with all the newest and snazziest toys, don't you?"

"Yes," he moaned.

"Then listen. Don't worry, this won't compromise even your warped code. I want you to tell me everything you know about Suzaku Kururugi." There was a distinct moment of silence on the other end before the earl spoke.

"Why on earth would you want to know about Suzaku?" Aurora sighed.

"Why did you get the Lancelot, Lloyd?" He heaved a gigantic breath.

"Because of you," he said reluctantly, like a child reciting a boring lesson.

"No," she corrected. "Because of my discretion. Now why would I tell you the specifics of something when that breaches the very practice that got you the funding you almost ruined yourself for?"

"Because you're insane," he returned, utterly serious. Aurora just laughed.

"Oh, undoubtedly. But that's not what I called to talk to you about. Tell me about the Lancelot's pilot. When's the first time you saw him?"

"In a hospital bed. He'd just been shot in the back by a Britannian commanding officer for disobeying direct orders. His father's pocket watch saved his life, but not his ribs. It was strange, seeing someone of such strength vulnerable and broken." Since she could distinctly relate, Aurora didn't comment. Lying back on the bed slowly, she listened as Lloyd told her a story, of lines drawn and broken, of promises kept and shattered. Of a man's desperate search for justice, and being forced to settle for revenge. Of how codes could be destroyed, and remade into the resolve that could topple an empire. Of how friends could become enemies, and how so many, many lives had been lost.

It struck Aurora how perceptive Lloyd was about Suzaku, a trait he normally reserved for his machines. It dawned on her that the earl had been as fond of his pilot as he allowed himself to be with any person, and had watched Suzaku's descent into power and loss with genuine concern. When he spoke of Euphemia, her life and death and the scars it had left behind, Aurora refused to admit that she wept.

"And then he died. Took us months to rebuild the Lancelot, and we have yet to find a pilot that can connect with Bors the way Suzaku did with the Lancelot. And we had to rename the damn thing since, well, Cecille demanded that we retire the Lancelot with his death." He sighed. "I hope he's not causing so much trouble, wherever he is." Aurora smiled – that was the closet Lloyd Asplund would ever come to wishing someone peace.

"I'm sure you're right."

"I usually am," Lloyd returned with a heavy dose of snark, as per his usual. Aurora just hummed noncommittally.

"One last thing, Lloyd." He groaned like a dying bear with a cold. "I want you to send me Suzaku's file – the _original_ one. One line of black-out, and I'm telling Cecille about the jelly incident." She could practically see Lloyd narrowing his eyes behind the sheen of his glasses.

"You wouldn't dare," he hissed.

"Wouldn't I?" she said sweetly.

"Fine," he said finally. "Are we done, Rory?"

"For now," she said with a grin as she hung up the phone. Standing slowly, she opened her window, turning her face to the cool night air as she thought over everything Lloyd had told her. She'd known some of it, more than the public, but not nearly enough. Hopefully, with the addition of Suzaku's Britannian military file, she would have enough to stand a chance against his past. Cursing herself as the echo of Euphemia's laughter skipped through her head and slapped cold hands at her heart, she drew back and heaved the phone through the window. It smacked against the roof of the building across the street, fragments pattering against the dirt as they rained down.

After getting ready for bed, Aurora slid under the covers, patting the comforter. It was all the invitation Ban needed. As he nested down by her legs, she ruffled his ears before cuddling his head, letting her tears soak his coat.

"It's almost too much, Ban. I don't know if I have enough to help him, let alone save him. Is this just sentiment, or fate? Does it even matter now?" The dog licked her salty cheeks, his version of a determined demand to go to sleep. With tears still drying on her skin, she lay back, and drifted away, the moonlight lying across her outstretched hand like a silver blanket.

* * *

_Only been working on this chapter forever. My life in relation to writing has been put through a hurricane, so I'm being pretty cautious when it comes to creativity at the moment. Since I had at least half this chapter written and the rest planned out pretty thoroughly, I figured this would be a safe bet. Lloyd was very fun, and I like Aurora being a snot to a snot._

_Hope you like it!_

_Love, Tango_


	5. White Nurse

Suzaku awoke slowly, like he was digging his way through mud. The wave of pain that swamped him was enough to steal his breath, leaving him weak and shivering. Everything hurt, and behind his closed lids, small pops of orange throbbed along his entire body, while his left shoulder and arm burned a deep, pulsing red. Focusing with a magnificent effort that had sweat beading on his brow, Suzaku dragged his eyes open with a discipline that could crack steel. As his eyes adjusted slowly to the light, the first thing he saw when he managed to open his eyes was a dog.

It was a lean hound the color of smoke that deepened to coal black along its points, whip-thin with dark brown eyes that were spookily expressive. It was lying on the floor, its head resting on stacked paws while its eyes were plastered on Suzaku. Noticing his shift in eyes, the dog lifted its head to attention, launching to his feet with a low _whoof_ and trotting closer to Suzaku. Its ears, originally laid back against its skull, shot straight up, giant bat ears that lent a comical appearance to the deliriously delighted dog.

"What is it, Ban?" The elegant, husky female voice tickled something in Suzaku's memory, but it was too much effort to turn his head to see who had spoken. Suddenly, a face swam into view, the foggy features crowned with a halo of gold. Blinking a few times, Suzaku managed to focus on the woman, and realized that her halo was a sleek head of blond hair.

Blue-gray eyes peered at him from a forest of dark brown lashes, glowing clear as the rest of her face eventually slid into focus. Her face had the smooth, elegant lines that Suzaku normally associated with royalty, the dramatic edge of her cheekbones softened by her eyes and mouth. Once his vision stopped refracting apart, he was finally able to tell that she was smiling at him.

"Well, hey there, handsome. Good morning." He was too wracked with pain to feel her fingers gently pressing against his wrist as she checked his pulse, let alone force himself to respond. Suddenly feeling unreasonably angered at her words, Suzaku turned his head towards the source of light, realizing that it was a window opened to a soft, richly green countryside, lace curtains rippling in a very gentle breeze. The question of the landscape was enough to have him forcing out words.

"Where… where am I?" he managed to grind out, a distant part of his brain shocked at the sound of his own voice. The woman sat again, on an antique rocker, he realized. She sent herself rocking again at a strong pace that spoke of habit. There was a book face down on the bedside table next to her, a silver-rimmed pair of reading glasses left open next to them.

"You're in Ireland, Suzaku." It took a moment after digesting that piece of information before his eyes shot wide – he would have reared up in bed if a slight clench of muscle hadn't strangled him with pain. Instead, he pinned his eyes on the woman, dangerous circles of green stone that glowed with threat.

"What do you want from me?" Her brows, the same rich, dark brown of her lashes, shot up, her mouth and eyes never losing their soft smile.

"What makes you think I want something from you?" Suzaku couldn't quite place her accent, but her voice, like her expression, remained gentle and genial.

"Why else would you keep me alive?" he snarled, small snippets of self-evaluation making their way through the instinctive rush of aggression and fear. He was lying on a bed, his left arm in a sling and his head propped up on lush pillows. The dog had plopped his head on the mattress, his nose less than an inch from Suzaku's fingertips. The hurt was too ubiquitous to sift through to the causes, leaving him in a perpetual state of pain that threatened to swallow him whole. She tilted her head as she gazed at him consideringly.

"I suppose you still wish I had just let you die?" Suddenly, the memories burst into his brain like fireworks; London, the soldiers, the gunshots, the water. Coming back to life on a sizzling lightning bolt of agony, and fading away to the soft urgings of his savior. Reveling in the freedom of death before being ripped back to a state of being that trapped him as effectively as a cage. Instead of responding, he merely closed his eyes.

"Perhaps you're right," she murmured, bringing her chair to a stop before she stood. "Maybe I should have let you drown. It would have been easier, certainly cheaper." She sat down on the bed next to him, propping her weight on one of her hands as the other trailed over the dog's head, who had yet to move. The shift in weight on the bed had Suzaku's eyes drifting open again.

"I never asked-"

"No, you didn't. That's what made me so determined to help you. It wasn't so very long ago that you were willing to go out of your way to save those in danger, to give aid where it was needed but not yet requested." Suzaku looked away; it was cowardly, but he had to. For in her eyes, the color of water in the moonlight, he saw himself as he once was, before fate and his own blind ambition had torn him apart. He couldn't stand it, couldn't stand being reminded of the fool he'd been, and the potential that he had thrown away. As the silence dragged on and Suzaku squeezed his eyes shut against the ripping pain that merely breathing brought to light, the woman next to him shifted.

"Tell me something, Suzaku." He opened his eyes, but didn't turn his head at her pleasant tone. "What exactly was the Zero Requiem?" He whipped his head towards her, too fast for his system to handle. Suzaku's stomach roiled, and spots danced before his eyes as his face was leached of color, leaving it transparent as glass. Through the haze of nausea, he was vaguely aware that the woman had stood up again, fingers pressed to his wrist as she laid a cool cloth on his forehead. Just as his vision was starting to clear, a series of muscle cramps rocketed through his system, sending Suzaku arching like a bow in a pointless attempt to flee the pain. Through the thunder of his pulse in his ears, he could vaguely hear firm, comforting words. The words of a healer that brooked no nonsense.

It was only once he fell into unconsciousness that Suzaku's muscles finally relaxed again. Now limp as water and his breath hissing in and out with a weak wheeze, Aurora straightened, pushing back a few strands of hair that had worked their way free of the tight braid she'd bound it in hours ago. Ban had yet to move, his head still a mere inch from Suzaku's long-boned fingers. With a huge sigh, she stretched her back with her hands on her hips, the intense fear and stress forcefully masked when Suzaku had gone stiff with pain now manifesting with muscles wound into knots.

Kendra had warned her, extensively. Muscle cramps, cold sweats, intense pain, tremors, a heartbeat like a hummingbird, a sense of restlessness that would drive even the most balanced man insane. Not to mention a battery of mental ramifications that were waiting for the choice moment to leap into the fray. And that was just from the heroin withdrawal. He was in for a long, rough road with that arm, and infection had to be guarded against like an incoming army. Aurora was a qualified nurse, and handled the worst of situations with a brazen aplomb. But he tested her.

Tested her heart, her mind, her resolve. How could she fight for him, heal him, when he had given up so long ago? Scrubbing her hands over her face, Aurora huffed a huge breath before she turned to go downstairs, pausing at the doorway.

"Stay with him, Ban. You let me know if something happens." As Aurora strode down the hallway, Ban leapt onto the bed with a compact bunch of muscles, circling several times at Suzaku's feet before curling himself into a tight ball, his nose tucked in his paws and his eyes on the man's pale face.

Downstairs, in the small, rustic kitchen, Aurora put on a kettle for tea. She had set the water to boil, bustling like an old woman, before she realized that the dish towel was gripped in her hands like a lifeline. As the kettle began to shriek, she stared blankly down at her tangled fingers and locked joints, the green cloth twisted and her muscles protesting the immense torque she was exerting on a simple dish towel. Straightening her head and stiffening her spine, Aurora commanded herself sternly to let go, and dropped the towel on the counter, the simple homespun cloth splaying like a dead body. Rubbing her hands on the thighs of her jeans to sooth the tension, she cleared her throat and poured the tea, having only taken one sip when Ban sent up a throaty howl in warning.

Setting down the mug that was doomed to cool on the counter, she loped up the stairs, her resolve hardened into granite and her heart shielded as best as she could manage. Aurora would do whatever she could to save Suzaku; that would simply have to be enough. Perhaps, if the fates smiled upon them both, she could salvage the man who had forgotten he had so much to give.

* * *

_Short chapter. Fit with the tone, since I don't want to weigh down the pace too much with a bunch of medical descriptions. There will be a ton in this story as it is; I'll try my best not to overdo it. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and thank you so much for reading!_

_Hope you like it!_

_Love, Tango_


	6. Hera

The next day, Suzaku refused any assistance Aurora offered, be it to eat or move or answer any of the questions he undoubtedly had. He hardly spoke to her at all, except to ask her about heroin later that afternoon. When she told him that she doubted there was any on the entire island, he paled almost comically. If he hadn't immediately descended into a spell of dry heaves, Aurora might have chuckled a little.

As it was, any time he proved to be stubborn or rude or uncooperative, Aurora merely had to wait until he was too exhausted and weak to protest to get her way. For a man so damaged, it usually took only a matter of minutes of resisting, perhaps upwards of half an hour before he had the strength of an infant. Although it aided her efforts, Aurora could only imagine the frustration such a strong person had to wrestle with under those circumstances.

That night, after Suzaku was only able to down half a cup of broth, Aurora began to prepare to change his bandages. She hoped, for both their sakes, that the drugs he'd taken with dinner were starting to kick in. Kendra had provided her with enough to get him through the first rough patch, but it was likely he would be in a near constant state of pain for the next six months. Enough to drive any man mad.

Keeping up her bright, one-sided banter, Aurora helped Suzaku sit up, supporting his back with her knee as she slipped off his sling, keeping a careful eye on his right hand holding up his left forearm. Should he start to lose strength, she would have to support his left arm before too much weight was borne by the healing bones and muscle. She began to unwind the bandages shielding his shoulder and upper arm with a careful precision that spoke of her experience. When his skin was finally bared, Aurora inspected it with feather-light fingers, searching for any sign of infection. The stitches stood out in dark relief against his pale skin, the edges of the wounds faintly red. Normal, but if it got any worse, that would be a problem. Giving those injuries a moment to air, she then probed at his ribs, the large blotches of bruising coming into their full glory as the swelling started to recede.

Aurora had to keep up two dialogues; the silly story she told Suzaku about Bannock and the frog to distract him, and the one inside her head cataloguing his injuries and healing progress. When he sucked in a hissing breath as her fingers moved towards his back along the right side of his ribcage, she glanced up at him, both of them freezing when their eyes made contact. Suzaku almost never looked at her, not fully. For a moment, all she could think was that his eyes were so pretty, even if they were glazed with pain and fogged with the ingestion of some drugs and the lack of others.

"I'm sorry. Do any other spots hurt like that?" He jerked his good shoulder by way of response after immediately looking away, and Aurora blew out a short, frustrated breath before turning her attention to the sharp planes of his back. Considering how bed-ridden he was, she was worried about the state of his spine and musculature. Not to mention that the sooner he could move, the less strain on his mental state. After a quick check of his long, lean legs, Aurora returned to his shoulder and started the process of re-wrapping it once the anti-bacterial cream and gauze were applied. About half way through, she noticed that his right hand was starting to slacken; immediately setting down the roll, Aurora reached down to support his arm. He was clearly tired, but instead of accepting her help, Suzaku tugged his arm away from her hand, gritting his teeth as he reached for the strength to continue supporting it.

Rolling her eyes, she returned to his shoulder wordlessly. Aurora told herself it was hard to blame someone in so much pain – but at the moment, she found that very hard to remember. Finishing quickly, she secured the sling again before easing Suzaku down in the bed. Settling her taciturn patient in, Aurora returned to her rocking chair, picking up her book and glasses. She'd gotten through a paragraph of her book before speaking, without looking up or halting her rocking.

"Were you always such an ass, or is it just me?" Flicking up her eyes over the rims of her glasses without moving her head, Aurora caught the shocked expression on Suzaku's face, along with the tiny, rusty laugh that ended on a wince.

"No, not always." A more comfortable silence settled, but was soon interrupted by Suzaku's voice.

"How do you know about the Requiem?" This time, Aurora stopped her rocking, closing her book in her lap with her finger marking the page as she slowly removed her glasses, leaving them dangling by an earpiece between her fingers. His tone wasn't particularly kind – but instead of rude, it was defensive, and wary. That, she understood.

"I have my informants. Some of which are legal, others are not. You could say I'm a collector of information. I've had my suspicions since Lelouch's ascension of the throne. I'm still not clear on the details, though," she said, hoping that the statement was leading enough to be comprehended by his fogged mind.

"I can't tell you anything without you knowing who Zero was." When he said nothing further, Aurora set the book and glasses aside before leaning forward in her chair, her elbows resting on her knees.

"That's something I would very much like to know. Tell me. Are you Zero, Suzaku? Did you manage a feat that tore the world apart and rebuilt it anew?" When he didn't respond, only continued to stare at the ceiling, Aurora dove her fingers through her hair before looking back at him, wrestling with her frustration as she kept her voice controlled. "Did you kill Lelouch, Suzaku?" As he pressed his eyes closed, a single tear tracked along his temple before disappearing into his hair.

"This is why you shouldn't have saved me. My hands are too blood-stained to be allowed to live. If I could, I'd resolve the issue myself." He raised his hand to his eyes, digging his fingertips into his eyeballs as if to alleviate some pain behind them. Before Aurora had a chance to say anything in response, he continued to speak.

"I was friends with him, you know. Not at first, and certainly not at the end. But I would have gladly died for him, would have done anything he asked of me, anything to protect him and those we held dear. But I hated him. I _hated_ him. I think I still do, as shameful as it is for someone to speak so poorly of the dead." His voice was beginning to slur, to lilt as the drugs thickened his tongue, brushing a flame against the raw edge of his nerves.

"But you worked for him. You protected him in the end, as much as you could." Aurora spoke quietly, carefully. She knew that Suzaku was losing focus even as he lost consciousness, but she was very afraid to forgo this chance to learn of a past that still resonated in their world today. Even if it was a cheap shot.

"I did what he asked of me. It was convenient; it aligned with my own personal agenda. And I had learned by this time to follow orders when given to me. Working independently had given me only heartbreak and loss and a sense of my own impotence. My only worth is in that of a soldier. And when a soldier is without a commander, what is he worth then?" Finally, his gem-colored eyes slid closed, his breathing evening out as sleep claimed his broken mind and body.

Knowing it would be impossible to get anything more out of him that night, Aurora leaned back, tapping her fingers on the arms of the rocker as she stared into the past and the chair slowly moved back and forth. It was a little terrifying, reaching into this part of what had happened in Japan two years ago. For a woman who had always sought the answers, had always held the truth on the highest of pedestals because she knew what it was to lose or hide it, Aurora had to admit it was a little galling that a part of her simply didn't want to know. A part, one she didn't care to examine too deeply, was very afraid to get the answers from Suzaku, and what they could mean for those she had once cared about very much. She hadn't allowed herself to remember Lelouch or his siblings with a clear sort of focus in years. Now, with defenses firmly erected against those memories, Aurora couldn't be sure that she would be able to rebuild them in the face of Suzaku's revelations.

But she couldn't let it go. She couldn't stand by and let these secrets slip through her fingers. She had been trained to pursue them, a training that called upon a natural curiosity and drive for knowledge that pushed her without pity. Lelouch's judgment by the people, as the man that would go down in history as the Demon Emporer and rightful target of the avenging Zero, broke Aurora's heart. It stung that such an image was all that was left of him; it was not the boy she remembered. Much as Euphemia's final acts brought a burn of tears to her eyes and a sour confusion to her mind. That was not the people she once knew. That was not the sweet, clever boy who alternated pride with compassion and had a sense of competition that never allowed him to live up to his incredibly high personal standards. Nor was the Murder Princess the same little girl with beautiful hair and a beautiful laugh that was always willing to let an outsider join her games, who danced in the light and dared the world with what was righteous.

There was a piece missing to the story, a piece that would bridge the gap between what Aurora remembered and what she knew. And she believed, firmly, that Suzaku was the man with that answer. The best friend of Lelouch, the knight and love of Euphemia, the enemy of Zero, the sword and confidante of the Demon Emperor. He had been many things, all of which planted him in the thick of a bloody rebellion that had rattled the world to its core and soaked the earth with blood. He had danced with death more than once, and emerged the victor. Of those he had touched, only he and Zero remained, and perhaps they were one in the same person, although something in Aurora's mind still prevented her from believing that.

So why did it feel like he wanted to be the loser, the one that didn't have to be left behind? Was it survivor's remorse, or something more? Her sources confirmed that the feelings between him and Euphemia were more than loyalty and admiration, that he personally dragged her from that massacre in a pointless attempt to save her. She died with her blood staining the cuffs of his sleeves and tears running down their faces, ending something that could have been truly lovely before it had really had a chance. Was that the source of his implacable self-hatred and death wish that for some reason he had yet to fulfill?

Knights of the Round were not required to undergo psych evaluations, so the last professional assessment of Suzaku's mind was when he was allowed to be the pilot of the Lancelot and promoted to cement such a position. But Aurora did have access to testimonies of friends and colleagues that described a shift in Suzaku after Euphemia's death. Not to mention the change in the military man that the world witnessed. For a Japanese soldier, he went very far very quickly, especially considering how young he was.

So the question remained, what exactly had he done to accomplish his revenge against the man who stood against his most sacred ideals and killed the woman he loved? Much of his actions were veiled from the public eye both at his request and the Emperor's, leaving vague military records and his single unblemished file. It described a great deal of his exploits from the moment of his enlistment, with occasional references to interactions between himself, his enemy, and his king which were unclear at best. At the very end of his military record, under the description of his death, were two words:

_Zero Requiem_

Aurora was at a bit of a loss as to where to begin. Should she pressure for his emotional memories, the ones of Euphemia and Lelouch and Ashford Academy and why he began fighting in the first place? Or was it better to focus on Zero and the Knights, both Black and of the Round, and his positions as the Knight of Seven and the Knight of Zero? Who would tell her the story? The man, or the soldier? The boy, or the ghost?

Knowing that she would end up chasing her own tail at this rate, Aurora shook her head to clear it, standing with a reaching stretch that made Ban lunge to his feet from his habitual spot by Suzaku's bed on a hand hooked rug of bleeding whites and greens. Moving closer, she did what she could never do while her patient was awake; really look at him, and touch him. As she stood by the bed, taking in the sharp lines and soft lashes lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Aurora felt her heart throb. Even without the answers, pity was natural, and something she knew he was never accept, never expect, and never, ever appreciate. How he had suffered, both at the hands of others and himself. He was guilty of some terrible things, that she knew. But Aurora was finding it all too easy to forgive him for transgressions she didn't have a clear grasp of. Warning herself it was stupid and sentimental, she slowly brushed the curling chestnut hair back from his forehead, telling herself she was checking his temperature.

Satisfied that he wasn't overheating, she turned her eyes to the window framed with gauzy curtains by his bed that looked out to the rolling landscape. Soft hills draped with the velvet of lush grass danced and sang under the silver light of the moon. It was said that fairies lived in these hills – it had been a long time since she'd believed in fairies. Glancing down again at Suzaku before turning to switch off the lamp and almost close the door behind her and her dog, Aurora crossed the hall to her own room, the bed unmade and clothes scattered. She left the door open here as well, in case Suzaku needed her during the night. Normally at least somewhat neat, Aurora spent so little time in this room, she hardly made an effort to make it liveable. Changing into shorts and an over-sized t-shirt, she crawled under the covers, patting the bed absently. As the warm mass of Bannock settled against her legs, Aurora rubbed her eyes.

She didn't believe in fairies, not anymore. But she would be an idiot if she tried to tell herself that she wasn't hoping – praying, believing, wishing – for a miracle. One the both of them could live with

* * *

That night, the pain receded just enough to allow Suzaku to dream. He always dreamed in color, in a violent mash of action, movement, and hyper-detail that was almost impossible to remember in the morning. This night, he lived war.

In the inexplicable chaos and insanity of dreams, he was both within a Knightmare Frame cockpit and out of one. He couldn't get a clear glimpse of his enemy, but he knew, deep down where the instincts that made him a natural lived, that if given the chance, his opponent would slaughter him. Moving on a need to survive not driven by ancient magic, Suzaku lunged and jumped, struck and dodged with an agility and litheness that had once, very briefly, given him joy. It was in these finite moments that he felt most alive, most worthy of the gift and curse of his beating heart.

Then, as he dragged his opponent close for the final thrust, the blade fell from Lancelot's hand. For his enemy was himself, twin Lancelots reflecting in the white shine of their armor and the green gleam of their eye plates. And, in the strange way of dreams, two Suzakus stared at each other in a kind of horror and resignation. Before he could move, Suzaku's copy and enemy thrust the knife between his ribs, the way he had killed his father, with tears in his matching eyes and a sad, slightly deranged smile on his face. As he crumpled to his knees in utter shock and resignation and permeating pain, Suzaku could hear his heartbeat slow, until all that he heard was the ticking of a broken clock.

Someone was crying. Somewhere close by, someone wept the wracking, heaving sobs of utter destruction. Suzaku cried out to them, knew with a complete certainty that if he could find them, he could help them. Save them from their pain and suffering. As he longed for someone to save him from his own. As he turned to sprint, a hand on his arm halted him.

He knew, as a voice soft as fog murmured, "That isn't the way."

It was Euphemia. It had to be, he thought even as he turned. But the disappointment ran bitter when it wasn't Euphemia who held him back, who touched him with gentle fingers and gentle eyes, but Aurora. She shook her head slowly, her golden hair unbound and raining down her back like a goddess's. She wore a thin gown in the palest of mint green, the delicate silk clinging to her lean curves and long lines that left little, and everything, to the imagination. A rope of silver was draped at her hips, the sleeves gathered at the point of her shoulders from where they split and felt to her waist, leaving her strong arms and delicate wrists bare.

What he took initially to be drops of rain in her hair were diamonds, but she wore no other jewelry. She drew him closer, holding his arm against her as the misty light tangled their forms into a single shadow. He knew without looking that he was wearing his white uniform of the Round. She still said nothing as she slid one of her hands up his arm until it lay over his heart. Together, their eyes dropped down to where her hand lay, his heart beating madly against her touch. Suddenly, pain flourished like a sun, a vivid burst of red blooming under her hand against the stark white of his uniform. It was an agony that took his legs out from under him, and as Aurora guided him to the ground, cradling his head with her hand as she clasped his hand in her bloody one, she leaned over him. The sound of crying resurged, and Suzaku's eyes searched pointlessly for the source. The faint, soft breath of pipes drew his attention back to Aurora, who looked at him with depthless eyes, the bright blue crowned with silver.

"I can't save you," she murmured, a hint of regret in her regal voice that echoed like twilight. "Only you can do that. But I can help you." Wordlessly, she slipped her fingers from the back of his neck and pressed it against the wound in his shoulder that pumped blood. Under the firm pressure of her fingers that felt like she was breaking him in half, the bleeding stopped, and the pain faded, and the crying fell silent. The soft sound of her pipes filled the vacuum of silence left behind. Looking back at him, she shifted closer, her hair a magnificent fall that tumbled over one shoulder to pool on his chest. He could taste her scent; cherry blossoms and storms and the copper of his blood on her hand.

"Will you let me help you?" she whispered like rain on grass as she gently pressed her lips to his. The dream dissolved as he reached up to bury his fingers in her hair, the heat and desire melting the images like candle wax before they had a chance to form with clarity.

In sleep, Suzaku shifted slightly. Normally, he was violently tossed out of dreams into a wakefulness that left him dazed and hollow. But this time, the first time in years, the dream faded to his subconscious, and let him drift deeper into sleep. He didn't dream for the rest of the night, and didn't know why, in the very first foggy moments of waking, he pressed his fingers to lips that tingled ever so faintly.

* * *

_Yay! Vague, super faint sexy time! I like how this one turned out to be a three act chapter, which wasn't intentional from the get-go and just sort of happened. Suzaku as a grump is surprisingly fun to write. Don't ask me why – cuz I'm crazy. _

_A lot of my work with Aurora is turning into a description of her circling thought process. I like putting us with her as she tries to figure all this out. As fans, we obviously know the answers, but I dig really making the audience reach like she does for the some of the big picture stuff. This is also a time when she acts as the audience conduit, much like Ariadne in Inception._

_Have I mentioned I love dream sequences? Well, I do. Pretty much anything goes, and I try to straddle that traditional dream element – symbolic – foreshadowing – crazy dream details that make no sense line. Considering I'm toying with an original about dreams (that I got the idea from while dreaming; weird right?), I'm trying to really get a sense of the rhythm and dynamics of dreams since I _very_ rarely remember mine. Such a rip-off._

_If it isn't clear, Aurora's dress in the dream is basically an Ancient Grecian gown. I didn't want to say as much, so I tried to convey that with as little detail as possible. Because he's a guy, and how many guys pay that much attention to clothes unless there's a lack of them?_

_I realized that I haven't clarified this from my previous comments – I finished CG. About time, right? Except I did it back in September. The fact that I finished it only days before I put my horse down – super mega dumb on my part. What can I say? I'm not always the brightest crayon in the box when it comes to my own mental health. It was amazing, which is why I'm still writing this fic._

_It also only serves to remind me that I don't have Internet at home right now, and that JustDubs is dead. /3 There goes a fraction of my life into the ether. Freakin' sucks when that happens. Anyway, the fact that this chapter happened at all right now really surprises me. I'm not in a very motivated place when it comes to writing right now. Just the nature of the beast, I suppose. Also, I recieved my first review in a foreign language. Really cool, and thank God for Google Translate._

_Hope you like it!_

_Love, Tango_


	7. Noise

As the sun rose, Suzaku grew steadily worse.

No matter what Aurora did, she couldn't get his temperature down once it had spiked after breakfast. Sweat beaded his brow from his body's heat and the sheer effort of breathing when his blood demanded something it simply couldn't have. She became truly concerned when he didn't have enough energy to be rude or taciturn, and simply suffered in a helpless silence. It took all of Suzaku's control and focus to keep his limbs still and steady against the tremors that rippled through his muscles to prevent re-injury. Then even that began to slip. A glaze slid over his eyes, his body shuddering and his breath coming out in choppy huffs. It would seem their grace period before Suzaku's withdrawal was over.

By midmorning, Aurora had no choice but to divest him of the loose shirt he wore, stripping back the covers and pushing the window wide open. The cool, wet cloth she laid against his forehead had to be changed every ten minutes. Suzaku's body was burning through its last traces of the drug that had supported his entire being for half a year. This was not going to be easy, for either of them.

When he began to lose coherent awareness, Aurora climbed onto the bed with Suzaku. As first, she was simply an anchor to keep him from thrashing too badly. But when he pinned his wide, glassy green eyes on her after coming out of some half-waking nightmare with a wildness that broke Aurora's heart, she slipped behind him. She stripped off her blouse, leaving her in a blue tank top and leggings. Even through her clothes, the touch of his skin was like brushing against an open flame. Tucking his injured arm against her ribcage to protect it from himself and his twitches and shudders, she propped Suzaku's head on her shoulder, stroking the washcloth over his painfully hot forehead in a gentle, lulling tempo.

That calmed him for a while. He seemed to dream, or hallucinate, for the next few hours. Whatever it was, his mind wasn't here with the pain, which was something. Occasionally, Aurora could make out whispered words that she felt against her collarbone more than heard as Suzaku swam through his own darkness. More often than not, it was Euphemia's name.

When he lost that and began to degrade further, wavering in and out of vague consciousness, she murmured comforts and sang songs as she lightly rocked with him sprawled across her lap. Aurora couldn't know if he heard her, and thought that he was struggling too deep in the withdrawal to make it out. But she hoped it helped even a little if he knew he wasn't alone.

The day slipped into the afternoon, the seconds running through their fingers like sand. Aurora lost complete track of the time; her focus on Suzaku was absolute, and the window was north-facing, which meant her gauge of the sun was minimal at best. Occasionally, a sweet breeze that ruffled the curtains would sigh into the room. It was a lovely touch to the sweat on their skin, a cool breath of relief amidst the burn of recovery.

Ban sat by the doorway the entire time, awkwardly watching the two of them with wary concern. Suzaku had frightened him, scaring Ban from his usual spot by the bed and sending him retreating to the doorway. The dog refused to leave the room, but the tension lacing the air had driven him the farthest he could go and still keep them in sight. He knew something was wrong; he just didn't know what. Aurora didn't leave her post all day – Suzaku certainly wasn't eating, and she was too wrapped up in him to remember for herself. When the sun set, she ran downstairs to feed Ban, guzzle a glass of water, and go to the restroom. Even that felt like too long before she loped back up the stairs to Suzaku's room.

He seemed to quiet down as twilight bloomed; either he was coming out of the worst of the withdrawal, or he was simply exhausted. Or both. Carefully laying him down on the bed, her hand cupped around the back of his neck as she guided him down slowly, Aurora drew just the sheet over him. She then pulled the window half closed before picking up her wrinkled, forgotten white blouse off the floor. Aurora dragged the shirt on slowly, her eyes blankly focused on the sleeping Suzaku. Ban stood from his post by the door, cautiously approaching. When he touched his nose to her dangling hand, Aurora jumped, then realized that her muscles were buzzing from the tension of the day.

Collapsing into the rocking chair with a low groan, she weakly scrubbed her hand over Ban's head. Now that she allowed herself to relax, her entire body went soft as a wet noodle. Practically dissolving into a puddle of skin, Aurora sighed, shaking back the loose cuff of her shirt before pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Her eyes shot open, however, at a low noise.

It was a soft keen of pain, the way a person might sound when trying to hide agony but incapable of completely biting back the instinctive moan. Aurora launched to her feet, bending over Suzaku as she ran her hand down his arm, searching his face and murmuring reassurance. She could feel the clench and tremble of his muscles, then the minor relaxation at her touch. Afraid that he would disintegrate if she wasn't touching him, Aurora dragged the rocking chair closer to the bed. As she settled into a rhythm that was both habitual and soothing, she stroked her fingers through his soft, wavy hair.

Ban still stood by the bed, looking at Aurora with perked ears asking for permission. Normally, she liked to have him on Suzaku's bed – he wouldn't feel alone, and Ban was bizarrely good at keeping an eye on their patient. But considering how hard she had worked to keep him from overheating, it would seem that Ban would have to do without this evening. Pointing to the rug with a snap, she gave the low command with a voice that had gone gravelly with exhaustion, a yawn cracking her jaw as she still rocked and stroked, her eyes on the moonlit grass of the land beyond the window as Ban nested and settled down with a sigh. She had nothing else to offer Suzaku but her support, and the fervent wish that this would all be over soon.

After a very long day of pointed focus and attention, it didn't take long for the glare of the half moon to make Aurora's eyes tired. She told herself she was just going to rest her eyes for a minute; she had to stay awake, for Suzaku. It wasn't long, however, until her rocking slowed, then stopped all together. She slipped into sleep like sliding into water, awkwardly tucked into the rocking chair with her fingers still buried in his hair.

* * *

Aurora woke with a jerk, a sudden, vising pain on her wrist. Too deep in sleep to calm herself fast enough, she yanked against the hold instinctively. She was wrenched awake when she was completely dragged from the rocking chair, sprawling against Suzaku on the bed. She was pressed against his side and chest, and there was something different. She had held him all day, but the sudden reversal of strength and weakness between the two of them rendered Aurora still and intensely aware of him, her arms incapable of pushing her away. He was looking at her with a wild hope and a pained derangement in his eyes.

"…Suzaku?" she managed after a moment. Aurora hated herself for allowing her voice to tremble, but his effortless show of strength frightened her, and his sudden closeness made her blood thud against her skin. And this was a sick, injured man in the midst of drug withdrawal. A tremulous smile worked across his mouth as he released her wrist and stroked a wisp of hair over her ear with a shaking hand.

"I'm so glad to see you," he whispered. It was the first time she'd ever heard him speak kindly, and it took Aurora aback for a moment. She was struggling for words when he continued. "Euphemia, I've missed you so much."

She swallowed against the tears, her throat clicking drily. Shaking her head, she was helpless against the tears that welled, but vigilant against letting them fall. "Suzaku, I'm not… I'm not Euphemia. I'm Aurora." He cocked his head slightly, his brows lightly furrowed. It was a gentle confusion, like she'd told him a child's riddle that had a silly answer.

"No, that's… I know who you are. You're Euphemia, the third princess of the Britannian Empire. I am your Knight. I'm here to protect you." Aurora bit her lip, laying her palm against his chest next to the bandage over his heart. The desperation in the undertone of his voice was obvious. She knew the truth was there, somewhere in his head. She just didn't know if she had the heart to drag it to the surface again.

"My name is Aurora Sterling, Suzaku. We've known each other for a week. And I'm here to protect you." She could see the loss rock him, the threat of lost memories beating against his heart. His muscles tensed against her, then shuddered. He was asking for more than his body could possible give.

"Where's Euphemia?" he asked in a dangerously low, desperately ragged tone. She hadn't moved; she couldn't. Nor could Aurora answer that question in its brutal entirety. She was very much afraid he would shatter if she did.

"She's not here, Suzaku. But you know. You know, and you'll remember. You just need to go to sleep. If you go back to sleep, I promise you, it'll all make sense in the morning. Will you do that for me? Please?" Suzaku looked at her warily for a moment before nodding. When she shifted away from him and stood, he caught her fingers. In direct contrast to the grip that had awakened her, the touch to her fingers was delicately gentle.

"I'll sleep if you stay with me. Please." She looked back at him, broken and beautiful in the moonlight. She nodded slowly before curling up next to him on the bed. Aurora initially kept a couple inches between them, but Suzaku shifted and tugged her closer until her cheek was pillowed on his shoulder and his fingers trailed through her hair. It struck her how much he must have loved Euphemia if he could treat a ghost of her in such a way with the remnants of that love.

Which led to another question as he settled and dropped off to sleep, leaving Aurora awake and shaken. Zero had been the one who killed Euphemia.

How could Suzaku possibly be the one who killed someone he was still so obviously in love with? He had rushed her to medical facilities as soon as possible afterwards, but that didn't absolve him of possible guilt. He had been mysteriously missing during the Massacre Princess' slaughter, after all.

But there was no way. There was absolutely no way that the man who slept next to her had killed the woman he loved. Aurora still wasn't sure of a great deal, but she was utterly certain of that. Which only deepened the mystery of his appearance as Zero and his faked death. She warned herself not to torture her mind with possibilities and guesses, not until she had more facts. And the only person with the answers was in no shape to share them. Deciding that she would do Suzaku little good if she was drooping from exhaustion, Aurora relaxed, and drifted away to sleep.

During the night, they edged closer to each other, Aurora's arm wrapping around Suzaku's waist, their legs tangling together as his hand came up to curl around her shoulder. Neither had ever slept so intimately with another person.

* * *

In the small hours of the morning, when the heavy blankets of mist had yet to burn off and the moon was dying on the horizon, Aurora blinked awake. For a moment, she didn't want to remember. She didn't want to remember what had brought her to be embraced by the White Knight.

But she did, and there was simply no time to entertain fantasies that were doomed to remain that way. She awoke Ban and commanded him up on the bed with a whisper, sliding away from the powerful heat of Suzaku's body once the dog was settled next to his legs. Moving out of the room as quietly as a shadow once she'd nudged the window open a little more, Aurora dashed to the bathroom, completing the fastest shower she'd ever taken in seven minutes. Pushing for time, she scrubbed her skin quickly and brutally while her hair was frothed into a bubbly monstrosity. She didn't care to be out of hearing range from Suzaku when she wasn't sure he would stay asleep without her and nearly slipped in the tub from the anxiety.

Forgoing a towel for her hair, she padded back down the hallway with nothing but a large towel. Her hair lay in dripping, glistening ropes down her back as she peeked into Suzaku's bedroom, breathing a deep sigh of relief when she saw that he was still asleep. Ban lifted his head at her appearance, his ears popping up like sails catching the wind. Aurora held him with a stay command, her palm facing him as she backed away from the door quietly into her own room.

Relaxing a little as she dressed, Aurora scrubbed the towel over her hair once she'd dragged on jeans and a green plaid shirt over a black tank. Snatching a hair tie and shoving her feet into moccasins as she crept out of her room, she glanced into his room again as she passed by before heading down the stairs. She knew a few steps creaked, and avoided them with a mischievous child's expertise. Back in her misspent youth, she'd been something of a terror.

Preparing the makings for tea with the patient boredom of regular habit, Aurora waited for the water to boil by braiding her wet hair back. Deciding that she was ravenous once the long, tight braid was tied, she whipped up some scrambled eggs, letting her tea steep as she poured eggs and milk, sprinkling cheese with a generous hand. Moving silently on her slippered feet, Aurora sat at the table with her plate of eggs and mug of tea, watching the countryside out of the three windows the kitchen sported as she scooped up her handiwork.

The land was going intensely green with summer, but she was sure they had a few more wicked storms left before spring bowed out for the year. The blankets of mist were just patches now, the sun creeping over the horizon with a halo of gold and fire that burned back the cool night with purple flames. Aurora soaked in the peace, taking it while she could. It didn't take a great deal of instinct to guess that there wouldn't be much peace here for a while.

And Aurora had a great deal of instinct. Humming to herself quietly as she finished her breakfast, she stood to wash her dishes and stow them in the dishwasher, tapping her foot in time with her internal dance as she went about the homely chore. Instead of heading back upstairs, she opened the back door, leaning against the jamb as she crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes slightly against the infant sun as the cool morning air bathed her face.

She had always wanted this, just this. The land, the quiet, a home and a place.

She had dined with some of the most powerful people in the world, had held titans under her power with knowledge and fear. She had seen a war at its most heightened, and had spent years trying to repair the aftermath. She had dueled with danger and death, had skirted punishment and laughed at pursuers.

But through all her exploits, all of her power brokering and truth bartering, the desire for simply this had lived on. Why did it have to be here and now, like this, that Aurora could live exactly the way she wanted to?

* * *

_Awww, cuddles._

_I love cuddles. _

_Things are going to start being revealed, plot wise. Then we get to the real meat of this arc. It was one of the very, very rare times I've ever had to do this, but I had to go back and beef up the first page or so of this chapter. I'm almost always slimming things down, editing stuff out because I tend to ramble. But I kinda copped out at first, and this is one of the most compelling moments for these two, so I had to step it up a notch._

_In other news, I purchased the entirety of Code Geass. Yeah. Hey, no one ever said I was sane. But I did. _

_I'm rather proud that this fic has made it so far, especially since it's the revamp of a series I wasn't even sure I wanted to watch. Go figure._

_Hope you like it!_

_Love, Tango_


	8. Number 8

Aurora had only been reading for about five minutes before Suzaku awoke. One glance told her that she had promised something that wasn't going to happen, a break of faith that she desperately tried to avoid. Her word was sacred to her, and she didn't give it lightly. But it didn't matter.

He didn't remember.

Suzaku looked at her like she was the answer to every question, even the ones no person could know. He weakly held out his hand, and she reached out to take it before she thought better of it. He slowly stroked his thumb over her knuckles, sending little sparks shooting into her blood at the rasp of his skin against hers. It wasn't fair, she thought childishly as she stopped rocking. It wasn't fair that she had to deal with his actions and words with the knowledge of who he was. He could say and do whatever he wanted – he still believed that Aurora was Euphemia.

It would seem that his outburst last night had worn him out; Suzaku struggled just to keep his eyes open as he helplessly trembled. He was so pale, so drawn. Sliding out of her chair, Aurora knelt next to the bed, running her knuckles down his cheek once before she asked him to do the impossible. She asked him to remember.

"Suzaku, I need you to do something for me. Can you tell me your earliest memory?" He looked surprised, but indulgent. However, the shadow of guilt quickly stole over his eyes.

"Being carried on my father's shoulders. It was at an event, a festival, I think. I remember the fireworks and the feel of my father laughing." And so, the thread began to be unrolled. Aurora felt guilty, asking him to reveal things under the ruse of the woman he loved, but she was afraid that the only way he could remember was if he lived it all again. And to be perfectly honest, she had to know. This might be her only chance.

She walked him through his youth, unsurprised to hear of the two younger brothers and mother that had all but disappeared from the face of the planet upon the end of the invasion. Rumor said that they had settled in the Chinese Federation; Aurora knew that they had actually made their way to Australia. He didn't ask, and she didn't say – ties had been cut brutally between them when he'd joined the military. Through everything that had happened, they kept their silence and distance, forsaking the eldest son to whatever trials he survived.

When he described meeting Lelouch and Nunnally, Aurora smiled. It had been one of the first pieces of information she'd ever gathered on her own. She'd needed to know what had happened to the prince and princess after their mother's death. Once she'd discovered that they were alright, she'd hoped that the three of them could move on with the rest of their lives. In a way, they all had. It did shock her that Suzaku and Lelouch initially didn't get along, since so much of what happened seemed to have been based on their bond with each other. He laughed at his childish rudeness, at how he had believed Lelouch to be a little monster in fancy clothes because of his birth. He admitted it was foolish; Aurora couldn't help the sad smile at the bittersweet, self-deprecating expression on his face.

When he spoke of the war, he stiffened. She still held his hand, partly to read him and partly as support. Aurora felt his tendons go as tight as steel, but he exerted no extra pressure on her hand. He either had the control, or lacked the strength.

"I'm so sorry, but I couldn't let it happen. The war. My father wanted to fight to the bitter end. To show the world that the Japanese spirit would never die, even when its people had. I was a foolish child, and terrified of what it would mean for the world I had always known. I begged him to change his mind, but why would a leader listen to a boy? So I killed him." Aurora froze at the words he uttered with a dull, distant look in his eyes.

"What… what do you mean?" He had looked away when he spoke of his father, but looked back again at her question.

"I mean I rammed a knife into him during an argument. Don't you remember? I told you when I gave you the pin. What right do I have to live when I stole the life of my own father? That's why…" he paled for a moment, then shook his head, as if clearing it of static. "That's why I try so hard to protect others. To possibly redeem myself. If I die for another, I thought that maybe it could pardon me of at least some of my sin."

Aurora was rocked. She'd heard whispers of that sort of thing, but the cover-up must have been top-notch to avoid her attention this long. He must have been so afraid, must have hated himself so intensely. Understanding percolated a little deeper. It was hard to blame a frightened child for an accident, an act of terror and desperation that no doubt had defined his life.

"It's not what you mean."

"What?" Suzaku looked at her blankly.

"It's the simple difference between murder and manslaughter. You didn't mean to, did you?" She spoke quietly, gently. Suzaku shook his head, frantically.

"No. No! I killed him. I took my father's life because he threatened to drive Japan into the ground with war. It's no excuse, but it's my only reason. I'm guilty. Guilty, Euphie!" Aurora shrugged, and settled back on her heels even as her heart ached at being called the wrong name.

"You don't… believe me?" He looked stunned.

"No, I believe you. I just don't agree with you. I can't see you as the type of child who would attack someone simply because you quarreled. There's no doubt that what you did was wrong, but I believe that you've paid enough, with your blood and your sorrows. You didn't do it out of malice. You were afraid. Is it wrong to be afraid?" She couldn't know that her words mirrored so closely what he had said long, long ago.

"No, it isn't," Suzaku murmured, his voice dazed. "As long as you don't let that fear consume you."

"You allowed it once. I think it's safe to say you would never allow it again."

"What… are you absolving me?" His incredulous tone made Aurora smile.

"No, I'm not absolving you. I'm forgiving you. There were many times that I wished my father dead, gladly. The only reason I didn't take his life was because I never got the chance. I guess that makes us a pretty despicable breed of people, huh?"

"I guess so," he murmured blankly. He didn't seem to quite compute that her words would have been somewhat out of character for Euphemia. But they'd been the truth for Aurora.

"So what happened? After?"

"Japan was defeated in less than a month. It was over. Lelouch and Nunnally and I were separated. I thought they had died. My actions were hidden, smothered by the claim that my father committed suicide. My family was gone, and my land destroyed. I survived as well as I could, until I was able to join the military in order to earn Honorary Britannian status. I thought it was the best way. I thought that this would mean something. I had gained peace by killing my own father. No matter the grandeur of the goal, it wasn't worth it if you had to destroy lives in order to gain it. I wanted to change the world. I wanted to change it with you, Euphie. But I wanted to change it the right way." His brow furrowed, like something in his brain was being rejected. Then it smoothed, and he trailed his index finger over the fragile skin on the inside of her wrist. Her pulse thudded against his touch.

"Then I saw Lelouch again." The sweetness was gone, leaving little except the bitter. Aurora could tell that the instinctive reaction puzzled Suzaku; there was something in him that hated the man he'd once considered a friend, but he couldn't yet find the reason for it. He described the search for supposed poison gas, and finding a girl instead. He mentioned it nonchalantly and with little notice, but Aurora could see the way he sacrificed his mask when he believed the gas to be released to protect Lelouch. How many times, she wondered.

How many times had he'd thrown himself into the line of fire? How many times had he thought of others above his own safety? Lelouch had wondered the same once.

Aurora's vivid imagination painted the scene with clarity when Suzaku turned from his commanding officer to deny an order he found contemptible, only to take a bullet to his lower back. His hand stayed still in hers even as he described the old, rending pain – it was quickly becoming apparent that it was old injuries of his soul that affected him so much more strongly than the old injuries of his body.

He spoke of meeting Lloyd, and Ms. Cecille, of accepting the title of the White Knight that set him on a course from where there was simply no return. He told her of his false accusation of Clovis' death that Aurora had all but forgotten in comparison to the firestorm that followed.

And then he spoke of Zero.

Suzaku struggled. She could see his mind fight against what his soul knew. He was lost for words for a moment, and could only manage to say that he refused Zero's offer to join him. But Aurora could see it; he'd known, even then, who Zero was, but refused it in favor of something else. What, she couldn't yet say. It was quickly wiped away however, by a desperate sort of joy.

"After my acquittal, I met you. You're so beautiful, Euphie. When you first fell into my arms, you took my breath away even as you made me laugh. So strangely silly and strong at the same time. And when you ran out into the middle of that battlefield, I didn't know someone could feel such an immense terror." Suzaku laced his fingers with hers. "I thought you were mad when you insisted that I attend Ashford. Or punishing me, somehow. But you were right. You gave me some sense of normalcy in the insanity of our time. I didn't know that I could have friends that way again, with just kindness and laughter. And it brought me back to Lelouch."

She felt his horror during the hotel high-jacking, felt his desperation as he pushed the Lancelot and himself beyond the limits of what everyone thought was possible in that tunnel. The terrifying impotence when he had believed he'd failed. She was glad that he'd found friends that cared for him despite his heritage; that despite all odds, there had been moments when he could just be a kid. Suzaku wasn't able to articulate what he experienced at Narita when he believed that he'd captured Zero, but Aurora could sense the fear, hate, and chaos that had burned in his veins like a rampaging bull, nearly destroying him in the process. She stroked her thumb over his pulse, the beat of blood jerking unevenly as he remembered the pandemonium that had rocketed through his own head.

When Suzaku managed to choke out how a deranged lunatic named Mao was somehow able to know what he had done, he could barely look her in the eye. But since she already knew the truth of his father's death, Aurora saw more the skill and bravery that he had shown in the service of a friend. This Mao character had surfaced ever so briefly in her research, then dropped off the map altogether. She couldn't be sure how he had attained information that she herself hadn't been able to unearth, but Aurora reminded herself that her focus was Suzaku, and not her competitive professional integrity. And anyway, it didn't matter now – she was retired.

"He was right, that monster who kidnapped Nunnally. What could I do in the face of my own truth?" Aurora felt a rage at a man she'd never known. But it was also hard, swallowing her frustration at Suzaku's apathy towards himself in a bid to drag him back from the edge.

"That's your only truth? The man who willingly gave himself, both body and soul, to the pursuit of a bright new future? So your reason isn't purely saintly; that doesn't make your altruistic actions any less noble." He looked at her, then cleared his throat. She could read his struggle. The only truth he could grasp was his past; how terrifying that must be.

His in depth mention of Nunnally and his cursory mention of his brief status as Todoh's executioner told her how comfortable he was with the former and rattled by the latter, and how deeply both affected him. The soft tone of his voice hardened, however, when he spoke of the battle after Todoh's escape, when his identity was revealed to the world. But he smiled when he turned his eyes back to hers.

"I didn't even know when you declared me your knight. I was too caught up in my personal declarations to know of the incredible risk you had taken, and the honor you had bestowed upon me. But when I walked into that palace, I felt like I was walking a razor's edge. I so badly wanted it, but the hatred surrounding me was almost overpowering."

"And yet you accepted anyway. You carried yourself with honor and dignity, and had nothing to be ashamed of." Aurora couldn't help it when her brows rose at the faintest tinge of a blush that rode along Suzaku's cheekbones. So, he still had that in him. Humility. She had wondered if that had been nearly destroyed with the rest of him.

"Then I was so focused on not tripping up the stairs or dropping my sword, I didn't have time for the whispers. If I were to humiliate anyone, it would have been you. And that was simply unacceptable." Remembering the television broadcast well, it suddenly occurred to Aurora that Suzaku's formal attire as Euphie's knight was the same colors as Zero's guise, except his white stood for black. How odd. Sometimes, she thought the fates had a bit too much fun.

"And then Lloyd started clapping," he murmured with a distant look in his eyes and a half smile. Yes, Asplund, who cared notoriously little for other's opinions, had taken the plunge and applauded Suzaku when no others had. But it had been Dalton's grudging claps that began the wave of reluctant sound.

"As for Shikine…" She hadn't thought it was possible for him anymore, this yo-yo of joy and pain that rippled through him. But then, this wasn't the present Suzaku. This was a fragment of the man he had been, before he'd lost everything. Hard to blame his mind for shielding itself from its own past as soon as it got the chance. It didn't take much to realize that this was all an aspect of the withdrawal, his mind's first defense against the lack. If it went this far at the initial phase, how much worse would it be when he got more desperate?

"Well, sometimes I'm not even sure myself what happened there. I don't know how he knew so much, but Zero again tried to recruit me, then challenged me in all the ways that mattered. My ideals, and my secrets. Then something strange happened when I trapped Zero, and…" Aurora had read the reports on the Shikine Island incident. There had been a bizarre inconsistency in the whole matter that smelled of cover-up, or worse. And anytime Schneizel was involved, things were bound to get messy. He'd always been overly fond of winning, with too little regard to the rules, or the cost. And if he could win at another's expense, that just added spice to the glory. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but Aurora felt like they were slowly making their way closer to the truth of it all.

"When I washed up on the shore of Kamine Island, I couldn't remember anything, no matter how hard I tried. It was easier to survive than it was to remember. Then I ran into Kallen." His eyes shifted away from hers, and if Aurora had to guess, it was in embarrassment. "She… well, she didn't…" Piecing the fragments of information together, she had to fight not to snort in laughter.

"She was naked, wasn't she?" He just looked away with the most uncomfortable and embarrassed expression ever, and Aurora allowed herself a small chuckle. She'd been right; there was something painfully innocent about Suzaku. Why did that appeal to her? "It's alright, Suzaku. I'm sure you comported yourself in a most gentlemanly fashion. Go on."

"I suppose you're right, if you consider honesty a chivalrous virtue. I told her about my father. I think I did it in an attempt to make her see the truth, the way it had been forced on me. But her rage went too deep; we came to reluctant terms, but nothing changed. It's hard, Euphie. Seeing so much of your effort bounce off the brick wall of the world. It's all but impossible to seek change when nothing ever changes." She squeezed her hand against his slackening grip. She could feel the hopelessness bleeding through him, and prayed that she could lend him some sort of strength. She only hoped it didn't have to be a lie. So she told him the deepest truth she knew of him.

"That's why you're so strong, Suzaku." She waited until their eyes met until she continued. "Because you kept your hope. You kept fighting. How many times were you torn apart? How many times has your mind suffered at the hands of others, leaving you with nothing but wreckage? And yet you keep rebuilding yourself. You keep drawing from a source of strength and carrying on. That not only speaks of honor and determination; it speaks of a courage to keep moving, to keep fighting when you would otherwise falter."

"You see too much in me," he whispered.

"I see merely what is there. Exactly who you are." Her quiet words were followed by a poignant silence. Finally, Suzaku shook himself and continued. He needed little prompting now. It would seem that his soul was desperate to share the weight of the rebellion's events, even if his mind needed the excuse of Euphemia's presence. So it had fabricated it.

He was bemused still about his actions after the Hadron cannon fired at him and Zero at Schniezel's command. It was said with such pure puzzlement that Aurora altered the opinion she'd made when first hearing about the incident. After all, the recording had been pretty convincing, if utterly out of character.

"Not that you would listen, of course. Even when I tried to resign my knighthood, you eventually changed my mind. So beautifully stubborn." The reverence and love in his voice made Aurora feel like a sham. Even if she felt the same way as Euphie had then; she understood Suzaku, and respected him exactly as he was. She'd known Euphie's thoughts over a decade ago – it wasn't hard to realize what she had felt three years ago.

"I went into that battle willing to sacrifice my life in order to repair your honor. But it wasn't enough. I only survived that fight because of you. When you…" Aurora blinked, slightly confused at the expression on his face. What had happened during the Kyushu battle between Suzaku and Euphemia?

"Only you could command a man to love you so kindly, and only I would answer so rotely to something that defined me." His grip on her hand tightened as he laughed a little, his eyes gorgeous and warm; Aurora felt like she was being strangled. She had no right to this, no right to what had blossomed between the two of them in the heat of battle. This had to stop.

"Suzaku, I-"

"I had to hear it from you to believe that my self-loathing was unnecessary. If you loved me, then maybe earning that love would give me worth. And I love you so much." God, he was lovely. Those beautiful green eyes practically glowed, and with his face in such happy lines, he was the most handsome man Aurora had ever seen.

But she couldn't say it. She couldn't feed him a lie to support his mind. Aurora had never said the words to anyone in her entire life – she couldn't sacrifice her integrity for his peace of mind.

"I know," she whispered faintly, shifting to sit by the bed and resting her cheek on the back of his hand. Even as his brows furrowed, she pushed him on. She caught a flicker of something, a hesitation during those last moments of the battle that made something in him falter. His defenses were weakening. It wouldn't be much longer.

"I didn't mean to collaborate with Zero – it just happened that way." When Aurora just managed a weak smile, he persisted. "But what mattered was coming back home to you." She could only imagine how the two of them had awkwardly fumbled their way to an understanding. It would have been rather adorable, if it wasn't so heartbreaking.

"With you, I had balance, and, for the first time, peace. You had shown me such mercy, that I couldn't help but grant it to others. And then what you planned to do for the Japanese with the Specially Administrative Zone…" His voice grew oddly choked, but he pushed on mercilessly. "It was wonderful, and perfect. I was so proud of you, so proud that the woman I loved was so strong and compassionate. That day, you were radiant when you faced down Zero and invited him into a new future." His fingers were twitching and Aurora could tell by his posture that Suzaku's shoulder was throbbing. She wanted to tell him, to scream at him. Anything to make him realize the truth and end this horrible charade. When he managed to speak, his voice was weak, shuddering brutally.

"And then…" Suzaku blinked rapidly against the memories that were fighting to break through. Aurora stroked her hand over his before pressing his palm to her cheek. She gazed at him before she spoke, already heartbroken to be losing a loving Suzaku. Already wrecked at what her quest for the truth had cost both of them.

"She died. At Zero's hand." Unbidden, a tear slipped down Aurora's cheek as she said the words he couldn't bring himself to say.

"No, you…" Aurora stood, holding his gaze with hers as he stuttered through his denial.

"She's been dead for three years, Suzaku. Euphemia is gone. I'm Aurora." He yanked his hand from hers as the light in his green eyes was doused by realization and understanding, and Aurora stepped back, horrified by the intense agony that she had caused. She had never meant for it to go this far.

"I'm so-"

"What? Sorry? So am I. Sorry that my life died with her. But why? Why did you make me do this?" She hated herself for the anguish in his voice.

"Because it was the only way you would remember. You had repressed the memories while going through withdrawal. It was the only way. I wish it wasn't." Tears glided down her cheeks as she stepped back, feeling the betrayal rip through her. If she was going to do this, then she might as well tell him the whole truth.

"But I had to know. I _need_ to know what happened, Suzaku. I need to know who Zero was." She pled with her hands, her voice shaking at the need. She took one careful step closer. "Tell me what the Zero Requiem was. Please."

"Get out. Get out!" The way his voice rocketed from whisper to bellow made Aurora jump, Bannock slinking off the bed down to the rug, where he curled up as small as possible. He pressed the fingers of his good hand to his eyes. She saw the glint of tears along his lashes, and felt like the worst sort of monster.

"Why do you think I did it? Why do you think I started? I can't live with these memories anymore. I can't live with the knowledge of what I've done and what I've failed to do! You brought me back from the edge I've been striving to gain for years. Why? I can't go on without her. I can't!" Aurora swiped at the tears on her cheeks, yearning to offer comfort that she already knew would be rejected. She gripped her elbows, wishing that she could shrink into herself under the iron of his gaze. It was too hard to find the courage to disagree with him, to maintain that he could live on without Euphemia. She doubted it would penetrate even if she managed to say the words. Instead, she lifted her hands helplessly before letting them fall.

"I couldn't let you die." It was tiny, helpless whisper.

"Please, leave. Please." He sounded so broken, so defeated, that Aurora couldn't help but obey. She turned to leave, but stopped at the door, wanting to give him something, anything.

"She loved you, you know. So much. I always thought you were worthy. Stay, Ban," she murmured, gesturing for the dog to stay as she carefully shut the door behind her.

* * *

Aurora gave him three hours.

She snagged a black windbreaker on her way out and swapped her moccasins for tough, scarred boots. Charging down the stairs on a light tread, she stormed through the kitchen and marched out into the fields. Aurora would have given a year of her life just to feel some fresh air. She hadn't known that memories could actually choke, could thicken the air until it was liquid. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she ducked her head against the soft breeze and her own guilt. The dew quickly soaked the hems of her jeans, clouds the color of pearls dancing teasingly with the warm sun against the bright blue canvas of the sky. Aurora leapt over a stone wall, eyeing the town to the west. She could go for a bit of chat and a pint, but didn't think herself fit for company.

She wished Ban was with her, but someone had to stay with Suzaku, and Aurora really didn't think that he wanted her around. To be honest, she didn't want to be around herself. Aurora knew she should have stopped the confusion long before it ever got that serious, but an objective part of her knew it never would have ended until Suzaku had reached the truth on his own. Still, her part in it wouldn't rest easy.

It took almost half a mile before she could somewhat accept what she had done, and what Suzaku had said. She had always been a person who relied on physicality to work through issues and ideas. It manifested in her usual tapping with fingers or feet, and also in her fit state, due to her regular running and walking.

She skirted around a herd of sheep, cutting through a stand of oaks and birches that were going green with determination. The sea was too far away to hear, but she could very faintly catch the scent of it on the breeze occasionally. She hailed a farmer who waved in return as he rounded up some cattle. As she hiked to the top of a hillock, Aurora paused, surveying the unearthly green of the landscape that rolled and tumbled across the rugged little island. It was so stunning and simple.

It was easy to lose the time here. A few minutes spent sitting under an ash bled easily into an hour. If not for the pocket watch she had tucked into her inside jacket pocket, her only warning would have been the impending sunset. Aurora stood, swiping at the damp on the seat of her jeans before setting off at a jog. She vaulted the stone walls easily, covering the distance with a ground-eating stride.

By the time she returned to the house, Aurora was panting and her mind was settled. They'd come this far. All of Suzaku's pain and revelations would be worth nothing if they stopped now. If she hated herself, then that was something she would wrestle with later.

She took time to deposit her jacket and collect herself. There was a bit of cowardice that she had to swallow first, though. Finally, Aurora squeezed her eyes shut and straightened her spine. Opening them, she stepped out of her room and across the hallway to his. Never had that tiny distance seemed so huge. She raised her hand to knock, but faltered for a moment. Tightening her jaw, she rapped gently twice.

When there was no response, she wasn't sure how to continue. Easing the door open, she entered slowly, only to find Suzaku drowsing. Considering the emotional turmoil he'd just gone through, it wasn't surprising that he had burned out. Ban lay next to the bed; it would seem that he hadn't quite worked up the nerve to return to his place on the comforter yet.

Aurora sat in the rocking chair, setting it into motion with the tip of her toes. Finally, she couldn't take it; halting the chair, she leaned forward, and touched Suzaku's wrist gently, soft as butterfly feet. His lashes fluttered open, and awareness dawned almost immediately, his green eyes shuttered. Aurora found herself speaking before she'd quite realized it.

"I'm sorry. I know you don't want to hear that, but it's all I have to offer. I shouldn't have perpetuated your disorientation, but I didn't have the heart to tell you of her death and I was afraid you'd never accept it until you realized the truth for yourself. The last possible thing I want is to hurt you further. You've been hurt enough." Suzaku's gaze still saw her to the bone, but it didn't condemn her openly.

"Why do you want to know? It's the past; what happened then can't change now." So accustomed to telling secrets about her own history, Aurora struggled with what she could and couldn't tell him.

"There are questions that I need answered. Questions that have troubled me for some years now. It would mean a great deal to know the truth." He tilted his head slightly, a considering light blooming in his eyes.

"Who are you?" Aurora forced the smile.

"That is the question." After biting her lip for a moment, she continued. "Could we perhaps compromise?" A brow lifted as he shifted in the bed, clearly still in a great deal of pain.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Tell me what happened. The truth, please. Then I'll explain to you my interest. I only hope both of us can live with what we learn." Suzaku looked at her, then sighed as deeply as his damaged ribs would allow. He then nodded, and continued the tale.

So much of his young life had been consumed by battle. He'd seen more combat than most seasoned soldiers. Did he have any inkling of how to live a normal life anymore?

He spoke of revenge with a tired sort of resignation. It was unsurprising, the way his mind had jumped from grief to vengeance. But what rattled Aurora was the depth of it. He had felt it so deeply; every aspect of his love for Euphemia had been engulfed by this burning drive to avenge her death. It was sad, that he sacrificed the memory of Euphie to his hate.

She could tell by the way he said it that he was ashamed now of assaulting Lloyd. Not that he hadn't deserved it, baiting Suzaku at such a time, but as with any flicker of gentler emotion he allowed her to see, it gave Aurora hope.

But she'd watched the footage. It hadn't taken much to dig up the classified tapes of the battle. Aurora knew that in the first fight for Tokyo, Suzaku had been a relentless force on par with a hurricane. He'd lost his grace and determination in favor of rage and power, hacking through the Black Knights like they were stalks of wheat. Even three years ago, Aurora had been able to see the incredible pain underneath the unstoppable fury.

During his confrontation with Kallen, he'd seemed like an entirely different person. Aurora realized the depth of what he meant when he said that he couldn't live without Euphemia; a very important part of him had died with her. He'd been a rabid wolf out for blood, and no matter who got in his way, his search for Zero couldn't be swayed. The way he spoke now, he seemed to regret the way he'd threatened Kallen, but said it with a strange detachment that confirmed what Aurora thought. As time had passed, it seemed more and more like it had been a different person piloting the Lancelot that night. But the question was, had he grown past the hate, or shuttled it around his soul until it sank in, spreading through him like a disease?

She was surprised he hadn't torn his way out of the Lancelot once it had been disabled, like an animal wrenching itself free of a trap, no matter the injuries it inflicted on itself. But, as always, there was a part of him she held out hope for. A part that surrendered for his friends, that took heart in the determined protection of his cat. A part that ran to Cornelia's aid, that followed her commands with the loyalty of a soldier.

But at Kamine… Standing before him was his purpose, with his back against the wall and smelling of fear. Suzaku had felt righteous, and a little bit afraid. But that never would have stopped him.

"I shot off his mask. Cracked it like a bowl." His eyes went unfocused, sliding into the morass of the past like quicksand.

"Suzaku," Aurora breathed, utterly entrapped in the tale. "Who's Zero?" He focused back on her slowly.

"It was Lelouch."

Aurora didn't speak for a moment. She merely leaned back in her chair before resting her hand on her throat, as if trying to urge the air locked in her lungs out. When she blinked, Suzaku could see it was against tears.

All her research, all her digging, had never made her consider Lelouch. Suzaku had known. But out of love for his friend, he had refused to believe until it had been proven. Then it was, brutally so. She pressed a shaking hand to her mouth as she sniffed. When Aurora quickly stood, she recognized in a distant part of her mind that she had made Suzaku concerned. He held out his hand even as he propped himself up on his elbow, wincing a little at the ache.

"Aurora-" She managed a choked chuckle that did little to mask her distress and pain.

"It's alright, Suzaku. I'm just… I just need a moment. It's all a bit shocking. I'm going to prepare us dinner." She paused at the top of the stairs, vaguely wishing that her fascination with the truth had never pushed them so far. When the tears dripped from her chin, she clattered down the steps, setting about the task of making sandwiches with a wild sort of desperation. She had to stop, though, when she needed a moment. Bracing her hands against the counter, Aurora bowed her head, allowing her sorrow to bubble to the surface for a moment.

Lelouch had killed Euphemia, and so many others. He had done the unforgiveable to achieve the impossible. He had paid for his actions with his death, a execution that Aurora suspected was designed by the executed. It wasn't difficult to extrapolate out the possibilities, and as she glanced at the ceiling, Aurora feared for what she had yet to learn.

But there was no turning back now. If Suzaku could reveal such a history, then she could at least return the courtesy in kind. Perhaps then, the uncertainty that had been haunting her since she'd watched the television broadcast of Lelouch's death could finally be freed.

* * *

_Part one of the series recap. I'm re-watching it with my newly purchased DVD's to get a really accurate feel. There are parts of the series that really struck me as having a particular impact on Suzaku. There are an obvious few, but there are also some that I wanted to mention from his p.o.v. I am terribly sorry if anyone's bored by the recap of the series, but I want to be sure that Aurora understands; that everyone understands. What happened before has such an incredible bearing on how this entire story plays out._

_Before someone jumps down my throat for taking extraordinary artistic liberties about his younger brothers and mom, you will recall that during his interrogation for Clovis' death, Gottwald mentions that Suzaku is the _eldest_ son of the former Prime Minister, not the _only_. Considering his relationship with Nunnally, I didn't feel that a younger sister with whom he had no contact played. So I gave him two younger brothers that he didn't get along with terribly well and a mother who knew what he'd done and was unable to forgive him for that, and for joining with the Britannians. It would also explain a little bit his defensiveness initially with Lelouch._

_Otherwise, I'm pretty happy with this chapter. I would love some feedback as to how this all rings with someone else, but I'm rather satisfied with how the realization played out. I'm really glad most of it survived from when it dawned in the shower (Most of my dialogue is run through in the shower. Don't ask me why; it just happens there)._

_After the next few chapters, poor Suzaku is going to get some mobility. I know he's been stuck in that damn room for a while, and I'm pretty psyched to get him up and moving. Aurora and Suzaku will be getting a bit of a break from their one-on-one time. It's been pretty intense, to say the least. Big things happening next chapter, and then the second half of the series recap._

_As always, review, review!_

_Hope you like it!_

_Love, Tango_


	9. King and Family

Aurora gave herself time before heading back up the stairs; she didn't know how much more she could take, but she knew that she needed to see this through. This time when she knocked at Suzaku's door, balancing the tray with ease, he responded.

"Come in." She pushed the door open with her shoulder at the invitation, dredging up a bright smile from a place she didn't really feel as she set the tray on the armoire next to her book and glasses.

"Hungry?" she asked lightly. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see his frown.

"Not really."

"You always say that," Aurora chided gently as she turned with a sandwich on a plate. "But try to get something down. I didn't know what you liked, so it's pretty standard." He took the plate with the ham sandwich from her and immediately set it next to his hip on the bed. Feeling the sinking sensation she usually got before she was about to be outmaneuvered, Aurora swung back around, fussing with her tea. Despite her admonishment to Suzaku, she hadn't managed to force herself to eat anything. When Suzaku spoke, however, her shoulders tightened, and she slowly traced her fingers along the edge of the tray.

"Before we go any further, you have to tell me who you are." Rolling her lips together, Aurora didn't turn around.

"That wasn't our agreement," she reminded him quietly. He snorted derisively.

"I'm a traitor. Haven't you heard? You can hardly expect me to honor an agreement when I can't even honor my country." Sighing through her nose at the intense bitterness in his tone, Aurora turned around, leaning against the armoire with her cup of tea in one hand as she eyed him.

"You're not a traitor," she said simply. He raised his brows as he glared at her.

"There are thousands, if not millions, who would disagree with you." Aurora just shrugged as she sat down in her rocking chair.

"I'm not one of them, and I don't care about them. I care about you, and I say that you're not a traitor. A tragically confused, grieving, angry young man that had no business getting in as deep as you did. But traitor? A traitor is a coward, and you, Suzaku Kururugi, are no coward." As he blinked at her in shock, Aurora sipped her tea before continuing.

"Why do you want to know now?" Suzaku was able to recover himself, at least a little from the shock of her simple faith in him.

"I'm concerned about why you need this information. It's sensitive, and could be dangerous in the wrong hands." She had to bite back her grin at the irony.

"You think I'm a spy?" His eyes narrowed at her thinly disguised mirth while she sat down in her chair.

"I don't trust you." The snapping words cut deeper than he most likely intended, but Aurora controlled her face to mask the hurt nonetheless. "Either tell me the truth, or learn to live without it."

"Uncalled for, but fair enough," she conceded shortly. Taking another sip of her tea as she gathered her thoughts, shoving the sting of his words away for now, she made eye contact with Ban briefly. Sensitive to the moods, he took to his feet, nudging his head under her hand as she set the rocker into motion.

"My name is Aurora Sterling, but I was born Aurora ri Britannia. I'm the…" Her eyes went up as she counted, occasionally tapping her fingers against the armrest as she marked the tens. Math had never been her strong point. "Twenty fifth princess of the Britannian Empire and one hundred and seventh in line for the throne. Of course, considering all that's happened, I doubt my numbers are still the same. I'm too far out of the game to care, though. And over a hundred people would have to die for me to ever take the throne." Still rubbing Ban's head and neck, Aurora glanced over at Suzaku, who had paled at the first sentence, his green eyes burning into hers.

"I'm the unfortunate product of Charles' relations with an English maid, most likely without her consent, though my mother never admitted it. He told Marianne it was because she had been pregnant at the time with Lelouch. A man has needs, after all. Britannian pig." The last was spat out with heavy sarcasm and disdain, her starry day eyes narrowing dangerously as she glared into the middle distance. Aurora recovered herself, however, and quickly smoothed her face into brisk, controlled lines.

"Once I was born, my mother was transferred to Marianne's household and I went along. Charles thought she would be one of his more understanding consorts, and he didn't have many daughters, so he liked to keep them around in case he wanted to marry them off. And then he forgot about me. I grew up with Lelouch and Nunnally and the other royal children of that age group. Then, when I was eight, my mother and uncle, who worked as a gardener at the estate, started hearing rumors that Charles was about to enact one of his purges." At the questioning look on Suzaku's face, she elaborated.

"It should be painfully apparent that Charles was something of a degenerate, and a shameless breeder. I was hardly his only bastard; he often had reams of them running around Britannia. Finally, when the numbers would get too great, he'd get rid of them. The more mild-mannered ones would be assigned to a post within his cabinet, low enough not to cause any trouble but high enough for him to keep an eye on them. Others he exiled; the rest he killed. I didn't have the lineage to warrant a position, or the behavior. So my mother and her brother planned to spirit me away. But my mother died before they could go forward with the plan; she'd always been frail. My uncle was frantic. That was when Marianne was killed." Aurora rolled her shoulders as she reluctantly stumbled back down the road of her fraught youth.

"He took advantage of the chaos and, working with the man they had contracted to make me disappear, shuffled me off the estate in the middle of the night while everyone was screaming and crying after the assassination. He lied and identified one of the maids, a young orphan who had lost her face to the machine gun fire, as me, and Aurora ri Britannia died. Meanwhile, I went to live with George Hampden, the man who had arranged my fake death." She remembered him with a sad sort of fondness that reflected in her voice.

"George was a fixer. He was a dealer in information and secrets. He knew all the ins and outs of the system, and countless people throughout the empire owed him. He initially planned to place me with a family in Brazil. But then, the plans fell through, and, I don't know. I guess I must have appealed to him, because instead of shipping me off to some other trustworthy debtor, he took me on as an apprentice. He was the closest thing to a father I ever had," she murmured to herself, almost as an afterthought. Jerking herself free of the memories, she smiled at Suzaku before returning to her tale.

"He taught me everything I knew, and we were full partners before I was a teenager. But then that silly old grizzly bear went and died on me. Deal gone bad. It happened from time to time, even if you were careful. One tiny mistake cost him his life. I was thirteen." Aurora sighed as she toyed with the handle of her mug.

"I was on my own. So I took what he taught me and struck out as a solitary fixer. I hit puberty early, which helped when dealing with dukes and executives who were inclined to dismiss me as a child. By the time I was fifteen, I was the go-to girl in the underworld. Did some of my best work in those years. Then I got cocky." Tugging once on Ban's ear, she pointed at the rug. Gazing at her, then Suzaku, pleadingly, Ban gave up and circled on the rug before settling down with a reluctant grunt.

"Thought I was untouchable, and I could go after an invincible target. Got in pretty deep with some pretty ugly people. When I got the information I needed, I succeeded in doing nothing but painting a giant target on my back. So I was left with two choices: stay and die, or disappear and live. I decided that sixteen was too young to die, and pulled up my stakes. The fixer known as Rory Seven up and vanished, leaving behind no information and the vaguest possibility that she might return. Just in case anyone wanted to try and do business under my name." She shook her head; the reputation of Rory Seven had been pretty tantalizing, and her pride had pushed her to debunk the imposters she'd caught despite her firm retirement.

"So I left Britannia one last time and ran to England. I had been there ever since until I came here with you. That's who I am," she stated with a cool finality as she set her mug aside. "And that's why I need to know. I need to know why my brother had to die, Suzaku. I need to know who killed him, and what purpose his death served. I think that's a fair request." He was silent for a moment, his eyes wide and unblinking.

"You're a princess?" Aurora couldn't hide the smile that bloomed at his blank amazement.

"Technically, I suppose. I hardly qualify for it in any aspect except blood, though. Although, strictly speaking, I have as much noble blood as Lelouch and Nunnally do. Did," she corrected herself quietly as she stilled her rocking. "However, our mothers weren't exactly equal." Aurora held out her hands, palm up.

"Renowned Britannian Knightmare pilot and member of the Round." She wiggled her right hand.

"English maid who had a child out of wedlock." She wiggled her left hand, then tipped her right higher. "Strictly speaking, they were both commoners, but my mother didn't have a thimbleful of Marianne's clout. Hence my general lack of importance among the royal family." Her mouth crooking a little at her own insignificance, Aurora set the rocker going again.

"You never had any ambitions for the throne?" Aurora couldn't help it; she laughed.

"Not only was it ridiculously unlikely, but I had no desire to take the crown. It would have been a fiasco, and I would have ended up dead or de-throned." She brushed a few wisps of hair out of her eyes as she chuckled.

"You're surprisingly mellow for a Britannian," he murmured, clearing his throat in regret once he said the words. Aurora hummed, trying to keep her laugh to a minimum.

"I'm only half Britannian, remember? And I've had my fair share of drama and intrigue; I don't need to invent any for a promotion that is astronomically unlikely." A smile twitched at Suzaku's lips before he was able to control it. He looked down for a moment, seriousness stealing over his face. When he looked back up, he was somber and a little sad.

"I'm inclined to disbelieve you, but…" His hand fisted as he looked away, then back again. "You have their eyes. The Britannian royal eyes." Aurora inhaled deeply as she ground her jaw against the tears.

"I do," she said simply, holding Suzaku's gaze. He swallowed, and broke the contact.

"You've been more than patient." She shrugged.

"It's the least you deserve."

"You won't think that after what I tell you," he assured her with a solemn certainty. She merely tipped her head, a tiny smile playing over her mouth.

"What makes you think you know my mind? I've already surprised you today. I'll bet you a great deal of money that I'll do it again."

"You sound like him. Lelouch. Knowing one's own mind, and that confidence that you wear like a cloak." Aurora's face went soft at the memories.

"I may have his confidence, but I lack his patience and strategy. He used to complain that I could never sit still, and he mercilessly destroyed me at chess every time he managed to convince me to play. I have a tell, and I'm too adaptable to build a strategy from the start. By the time it forms, it would be too late. Especially with him." The smile faded, however, and her eyes darkened.

"Suzaku, can you promise me something?" At his cautious nod, she drew in a deep breath. "You promise to tell me the end of the story? You swear that you'll tell me why Lelouch died?" He nodded again, but Aurora pushed. "You swear?"

"I do," he said seriously, and Aurora knew he meant it.

"Then tell me why. Why did Euphemia do those horrible things?" He swallowed heavily before saying a single word.

"Geass."

"Geass?" Aurora repeated, her brow furrowing at the unfamiliar word. Suzaku nodded, and told her what Lelouch had confirmed as his uncle's truth. How a witch had granted Lelouch his deepest wish in exchange for granting hers. How he was given the power of a king, and sought to rend the world asunder and rebuild it anew. He told her the parameters of the power, and how it had aided him both as Zero and as Emperor. How the command given to Suzaku was done in fear, and the command given to Euphemia was done unintentionally.

"He lost control?" Suzaku had only a moment to be surprised that she absorbed the information so easily. Her mind was flexible and instinctive; Aurora knew the truth when she heard it.

"Yes. He used special contacts to block it until he needed it after that."

"And the orders given to you and Euphemia?" Suzaku blinked. She'd known so much, he'd assumed that Aurora would know this as well. Considering how hard he was struggling to keep his focus and discipline with his thoughts tumbling through his head like dice in a cup, it should come as no surprise that he was faltering. But he had to see this through to the end. He'd given her his word.

"He gave me my order on Shikine Island, right before the Hadron Cannon fired. He told me to live." Aurora felt her heart lurch; the sheer injustice of it.

"No," she whispered without control. Suzaku looked confused. "It's just… That's so opposed to your personality and instincts. It must have been torture." His crooked smile was incredibly bitter.

"It still is. There's no expiration to the command, not even the commander's death. It will haunt me the rest of my days, and forces to me to live a life without her." He spoke so quietly, and Aurora didn't need to ask of who he meant. Suddenly, the mire of guilt and anger and pain that she had known he was struggling against grew exponentially. Her heart bled for him, bled for the boy he'd been and the broken man who lay before her.

"And Euphie?" She hardly dared ask, but the footage… She hadn't been able to watch it to its end. She'd bolted outside to vomit into an alley, terrifying Kendra and Chandler at her sudden hopelessness and anger that had lasted upwards of a week. What had happened to Euphie?

"Lelouch told me later that it was an accident. The first time his Geass went out of control. He was trying to explain the power to her when he mentioned killing all the Japanese. He thought that such an outlandish statement would help her understand. He didn't know that it had become a Geass command." She nodded, feeling a heavy weight drop from her heart. So Euphemia hadn't changed. Through magic and an accident, like a boy playing with his father's gun, she'd been killed. It hurt that her honor had died with her, but at least Aurora knew now. She could hold the memories of Euphie without feeling the burn of betrayal and question. She'd been sweet little Euphie to the very end.

Aurora pressed her fingers to her eyes, laughing shakily at her inability to stem the tears that slipped down her cheeks.

"Aurora?" She looked up to see concern on Suzaku's face. As she pointlessly wiped away the tears, she waved his worry away.

"I'm fine, Suzaku. I'm just so relieved. I'd… Euphemia had been one of my favorites, and what happened, well… It didn't seem real, but what other options could there have been? Thank you, for giving me my sister back." As she sniffed and shuddered, Suzaku held out a hand. She took it in hers, and for a moment, the two of them were connected by more than just touch. They released each other's hand at the same time, for different reasons. Suzaku, with guilt and discomfort. Aurora, with sadness and heartbreak. She took a deep breath, straightening in the rocker as she sent it moving again.

"So what did you do? After you found out Lelouch was Zero?"

* * *

_This chapter had grown into something of a monstrosity, so I decided to split it. The second season recap will be finished with the next chapter. Since I'm already over halfway through it, that one should be up in the next week or so._

_So now you all know. Aurora is a princess. Kind of. It was an element that persisted since her first inception, and I'm super psyched that I finally get to reveal it. A lot of other aspects of her character had changed from when I first thought of the idea to when I posted BBGE to when I watched CG all the way through to when I rebooted the story to its current state of _Phoenix_, but that stayed the same._

_I can now reveal something I've done with this story that has tickled me endlessly. All the chapters prior to this one - chapters where heroin was physically present in Suzaku - are all named after street names of heroin that dovetail with some aspect of that chapter. I didn't think I'd be able to keep it up this long, but I can't anymore. However, it is one of those things that make writing truly fun. If you are curious what they all mean, let me know, and I'll post the list on my profile._

_I've checked about ten books from the library so my depiction of his recovery from addiction can be as accurate and sensitive as possible. The idea of me doing this level of research during my brief stint in college was laughable. Just goes to show the power of motivation. I guess I should say now that if I insult anyone with my handling of Suzaku's use of heroin, I'm terribly sorry. That never has been, nor will ever be, my intention._

_This story has reminded me why I love writing so much. It's such a relief, knowing I still have this pure love. Once I finish _Phoenix_, I believe that can transfer to my novel. Grief has a way of derailing your life. Suzaku and Aurora have learned that brutally; guess I had to, too._

_Hope you like it!_

_Love, Tango_


	10. Regarding

The time for trading entreaties to join forces was over. Aurora felt for Kallen; standing on the sideline while this battle of minds and hearts was waged between two incredibly powerful men, trapped in her own shock and betrayal. As for Suzaku, the thread was spun too thin, the ubiquitous hate and pain roiling through his system like a storm. She could see his hand shake against the comforter; the way it had shaken on the hilt of a gun three years ago. His control frayed, and every agony and anguish he'd suffered since Euphie's death erupted into screams that ended on a gunshot.

She felt it, and saw it. If the royal children each had a gift, then this was hers. An incredible ability to paint a picture in her mind with little scraps of information. It's what had made her so skilled at her career. It's also what haunted her at night. For a moment, the cracking echo of the gunshot vibrated against her spine, and Aurora had to remind herself to breathe. When she finally managed to suck in a lungful of air, she leaned back in her chair, taking a sip of her cold tea before returning her eyes to Suzaku. She knew that this was the point of the story where he turned. Where the idealistic boy was finally strangled into silence, leaving nothing but the brutal soldier in his wake. She prepared herself for that, told herself that what little judgment she had a right to levy against him would be done with what he had suffered kept in mind. At her nod, he heaved a deep breath, and described what he had done next.

She had to admire Suzaku's honesty. Not that there was much point lying to her, but she could sense the regret, even a bit of shame in his voice, as he told her how easily he had overpowered Lelouch, how he'd sold his best friend to the Emperor in exchange for power. Caught between them in understanding, Aurora took a moment to mourn for both of them, and condemn both of them. Breaking her usual habit, she asked no questions, and offered no opinions. Until they reached the end, she had none.

His eyes faded for a moment, gazing into the past the way he'd once gazed at a defeated Lelouch.

There was nothing there.

Those green irises, so striking and lovely, were empty, blank as the abyss and as indifferent. Even after all that he'd suffered, all the guilt he cloaked himself in and suffocated under, Suzaku still felt that cold power and cool disdain for the man who had killed the woman he loved. Aurora couldn't blame him, but she couldn't deny that it sent a shiver down her spine. She wasn't sure why, but that monolith, that titan within a boy's skin, struck her at her core. Even if there were only fragments of him left.

But the man he spoke of, the man he'd once been, who gained favor from the 98th Emperor and unflinchingly betrayed all that he held dear in order to gain the power to do what love had been unable to. That man was the hardest to reach, the hardest to sympathize with. It wasn't terribly difficult to pinpoint the moment when the sweet boy developed a spine of steel, and a heart just as hard. When he'd sold his soul in a desperate attempt to appease its pain. How could you ask anyone who held the hand of the one they loved as they slipped away to remain normal? But he'd gone too far. Aurora couldn't give him amnesty, not in this.

Battle, the state of existence Suzaku had always found reprehensible, became the only way for him to find the peace and balance that Euphemia's death had robbed him of. But when the possibility of Lelouch's memories returning reared its head, Suzaku returned to Ashford. The slight bemusement around his mouth betrayed his discomfort.

Returning to the place he'd attended on Euphemia's orders. Facing down Lelouch, judging every moment, every word, every expression, to determine whether or not he was once again Lelouch vi Britannia, or still simply Lelouch Lamperouge. Staring into the face of the man who had destroyed him, who he in turn handed over to be destroyed. He must have felt so old, so battered, in the face of the youthfulness of the student council. Suzaku even murmured as much, tracing his fingers over a square of the quilt in a diamond pattern. He'd felt like he was eighty, not just eighteen. But the mission had come first, the only remaining pillar of his crumbling world. When that objective had been completed, what had he been left with?

The student council's concern for Kallen had surprised him, as much as their pleas for friends and family had disturbed him. His were gone; the only thing left for him was justice, or revenge. At that point, they were so blurred, he'd hardly been able to separate the two.

He spoke briefly, and with slight fondness, of several of his fellow Knights of the Round, especially Gino and Anya. Both painfully young like him. Yet he'd seemed decades older, especially compared to Gino, who was only a year younger than Suzaku. Had his time back at Ashford been a relief, a way to slip back into the life he should have had, the person he should have been? Or was it a ridiculous sham, one that grated at his very bones, forced to paste on a smile and listen to the prattle? How had he viewed that time, those people? At this moment, Aurora would have to guess that he'd been caught somewhere in between, the only constant thing the pain.

So enveloped by that pain, he'd done what any person did under the continual weight of it; he sought to inflict equal pain on the person who had wounded him. Having grown up with Lelouch and Nunnally, Aurora knew as well as Suzaku the depth of the bond between them. And so she knew how cruel he had been when he'd tested Lelouch with a blue phone, an unaware Nunnally on the other end of the line.

He hadn't known at the time the trick Lelouch and Rolo had played with the damaged little assassin's Geass, but Lelouch had admitted it later. Suzaku had walked away with the evidence proclaiming that Lelouch's demon was still asleep, but his instincts had hummed, protesting otherwise. But it hadn't been fast enough; Zero had slipped free, and gone after Nunnally.

Suzaku should have known to pay more attention to Nunnally; wherever she was, so inevitably would be Lelouch. But the situation had escalated far faster than he could have guessed. She could have died in the fray, if he'd been only seconds later in that battle over the Pacific. He, and Lelouch, could have lost her.

Suzaku had always loved Nunnally, much more than anyone he'd been related to by blood. She was such a gentle soul, strangely perceptive and eternally loving. The oath he swore to protect her was never taken lightly. Although their paths had diverged so severely, it was ironic that Suzaku fulfilled the role that Lelouch had originally assigned him in his early plannings of the game he was going to play with the world. Nunnally was the last thing Suzaku had left to protect, the last toehold he had on his sanity. If he were to lose her…

But he'd underestimated her. Her desire to reinstate the Special Administrative Zone had taken him utterly by surprise, and had almost driven him to his knees. It was only Suzaku's long-standing military training that had instilled the discipline to keep himself under control during Nunnally's speech. Everything, down to his very bones, had shaken. Sweet little Nunnally, attempting to resurrect Euphie's dream. His battered, gutted heart had trembled as he listened to her say the words Euphie had once proclaimed from the palm of a Knightmare, also over a live feed. He'd been so proud, and in so much agony, he could hardly stand it.

Aurora had watched that broadcast, too. She'd been taken by surprise. Nunnally had always been so soft, so fragile, and her injuries had only heightened that fact. And though the new Viceroy of Area 11 was certainly delicate, she was by no means impotent. Aurora realized that Nunnally's power could equal Lelouch's at that moment when she held the balance of the world power in her small, white little hand.

Suzaku served her as faithfully as he had Euphemia. With the navy at his disposal, he'd hunted down the Black Knights. He'd almost flushed them out when Lelouch had done what he did best; he used his surroundings more than his forces to his advantage. It was another glaring example of the difference between Lelouch and Suzaku. Lelouch preferred the board, Suzaku the pieces. Mostly because Lelouch knew the fallacy of human nature, and preferred the surroundings, which could be trusted to behave. Suzaku, however, knew that the difference between winning and losing was often up to a single soldier and his heart – that fallacy was where some of the greatest courage stemmed.

For the second time, Zero accepted his invitation to the Special Administrative Zone. Suzaku hadn't believed it, or condoned it, not at first. But as the day grew closer, he couldn't help but visualize the possibilities if the Zone worked.

But a surprise visit from a determined, if incompetent, assassin reminded Suzaku of his place, and the heavy burden of his Geass command. He'd hardly needed the help of some magic he hadn't really understood, since he could have disarmed the man with the same ease he exhibited when getting into a car or drinking a glass of water, but it served as a reminder. Of the punishment he had sought for himself in death, and the far worse one that he'd been sentenced to when forced to live.

Anya had been more perceptive than Aurora would have thought. It was tragic, the way Suzaku had always been at odds with his own people. The one person who had fully understood him had died holding his hand. Yes, he'd been on trial, Aurora thought. But the harshest judge was himself.

Of course his hope was dimmed at Zero's request for exile. It left him feeling powerless and empty, and he was faced with the unassailable truth; this was revenge. He'd managed to placate himself whenever his morals had balked at the actions he took. Suzaku told himself this was all for justice. But justice wasn't supposed to feel this way.

Even so, Suzaku had dared to hope, dared to believe that this time, it would go as was planned. Lighting a candle in Euphie's name had done what all the heart-shattering memories couldn't – it gave him a brief outlet for his pain, a purpose. This time, no lives would be lost and Euphie's memory could be honored, instead of simply just avenged. And thanks to his weakness, a part of his hope was achieved. Of course, it came at the expense of his pride. So Lelouch had stripped him even of that.

Aurora felt a pained chuckle peal through her head at the distinct memory of the inauguration. For two men who were so opposed to one another, they tended to agree about the most important things at the most inconvenient times. She'd only known Suzaku as the public figure of the Knight of Seven, but her research had revealed a strong young boy who offered the hand of friendship to a captive. She'd known when Zero – Lelouch – had known. Suzaku would let them all go.

And then there was that debacle with the Empress…

When Aurora had heard the news – not through the media, but through her more clandestine networks – she couldn't help but roll her eyes. Odysseus was a flaming idiot, an incompetent first try who was outrageously outclassed by most of his younger brothers, especially Lelouch and Schneizel. She'd never gotten along with him, and had almost brought the seventeen year old to tears when he'd ripped the shoulder of her plush toy tiger. It had taken the combined forces of Cornelia and Euphemia to drag her off. No one had ever accused her of being a lady. And she pitied the Empress, being forced to accept a fate Aurora would have no doubt contended with herself if she'd stayed in the courts.

Suzaku was too polite to say, but she could sense that he'd felt the same way, about both Odysseus and the Empress. The gathering of such an… eclectic crowd had been interesting. Since he stumbled over the words slightly, Aurora could tell that he was hedging. It had been one of the few times she'd really, _really_ wished she still had her old job. It would have been easier than brushing her teeth to wrangle an invitation. And all the thick, ridiculous scandals would have been a field day.

But she had to rely on Suzaku's recounting of the event, which had started innocuously enough. Of course, anytime Schneizel entered the room, things were bound to get complicated fast. Although Aurora had often disagreed with Schneizel as a child, and was a little afraid of him, she could always count on him to keep things from getting boring. For a hyperactive kid, that had meant the world.

The presence of not one, but two of his schoolmates had certainly surprised Suzaku, and briefly put him at ease. As the child of a political figure, he had been no stranger to that sort of event. But as a Knight of the Round, he had been expected to act with even more decorum. Aurora could picture him in his sharp-lined Round uniform, kneeling with a serious, soldier's expression on his face. The image came to her so clearly, she had to wonder if she'd seen him like that before, in some news broadcast or in the papers. Either way, he had carried the attire like he'd been born to it.

Of course, the appearance of Zero threw the entire gathering into breathless disarray. Suzaku had wasted no time ranging himself in front of Schneizel. Zero might have achieved his most recent aims without bloodshed, but Suzaku trusted him about as far as he could throw his Knightmare. What he hadn't counted on was Lady Kaguya's brisk and cheerful maneuvering. She spoke of things that haunted him with a sparkling smile. His pained hesitation was enough to allow Zero the opening to pose a wager.

Suzaku probably hadn't realized the importance of it at the time, but Aurora immediately tensed when he told her that the game was chess. Lelouch and Schneizel had played that damn game for hours on end, the younger ever determined to beat the elder. Despite Schneizel's seniority, Lelouch was a skilled opponent, his creativity and sheer drive hard to contend with. And though Lelouch was a prodigy, Schneizel was gifted with machinations and fronts, their dueling of wits a tight race. Aurora had rarely been able to sit through their games; she'd try, but then she'd get bored of the two impassive boys staring fiendishly at a checkered board. She would have to hear of the results through some other means. Even then, she was skilled at building networks of information, and the results were always the same, anyway. Lelouch would lose, often by a tight margin and dragging surrender.

It would seem that this time was a little different. Schneizel had thrown the game to draw Zero out, and before the result of the wager could be decided by Zero's next move, poor, crazed Nina had tried to kill the terrorist. It wouldn't be the first time she leaped off the deep end, nor the last, and luckily, Suzaku was there this time to stop her from driving that ornamental knife between Zero's ribs. But her shrill reminders had made him slacken his grip.

She was right. He was Euphemia's knight, now and forever. And there he stood, not ten feet from the man who had shot her, and he did nothing. The confusion and rage swirled up and choked him, and if it hadn't been for Kallen, Nina would have succeeded. But it was the pity that moved him. Poor, pathetic Nina. She had clung to the idea of Euphemia so tightly, that when she lost her, she lost her sanity with her. There was a caged, insane part of him that saw itself mirrored in Nina's tearful shrieking, and threw itself against the bars. But unlike the unhinged schoolgirl, Suzaku never let that part of him free. Ever.

As she had fallen to her knees, Suzaku had needed someone to blame. Nina hadn't always been this way. And the easiest answer, the target of all his rage, his pain, was Zero. The evening had ended awkwardly, and Aurora's suspicions were confirmed. It had been one for the books, and she wished vehemently that she'd managed to see it all for herself. But realistically, it was entirely possible that she could have been arrested there and shipped off to Britannia for trial. Of course, she'd never see a trial, not with the people who were after her head. And her enemies had enough connections to make her man-hunt a worldwide one.

But the wedding the next day had outstripped its eventful eve. Lord Xingke had interrupted the ceremony with a level of drama and grandeur that Suzaku had thought only Zero could achieve. It had only taken one word from Cecile before he was out of the church and prepping the Lancelot, while Gino and Anya stayed behind to protect the royal brothers. He hadn't witnessed the kidnap of the Empress by Zero, but it had changed nothing but a shift in target, to one he was much more familiar with.

Suzaku was once again drawn into a reluctant battle with his old master. All lingering respect was shoved aside, however, in favor of the duty that still drove him. That hadn't prevented the destruction of his float unit, and he was left to the constraint of the political dance. Inside, he bucked and reared at the restriction like a crazed horse. But outside, he'd kept his calm and contented himself with spending time with Milly and Anya.

Meanwhile, while Suzaku was shown surprisingly poignant pictures of his welcome-home celebration, Lelouch had battled someone that matched him step for step, and even outpaced him. Like Zero, Xingke preferred the surprise of the elements once the battle had settled into predictable lines. Suzaku respected him as a pilot skilled at his level, if not beyond it. As a leader, he had certainly given Zero a run for his money.

When the Black Knights had been forced to withdraw to the Tomb of 88 Emperors, Gino and Anya were cleared for duty, eagerly engaging Xingke. Suzaku had stayed behind, facing down a stoic and unapproachable Kallen that he'd brokered with the High Eunuchs. He'd wondered if he'd feel anything for her. But this was war – sad reminders of the shadow life he'd left behind would do no good here.

However, he was more useful on the battlefield than the interrogation room, and Lancelot was deployed to once again cross swords with Todoh. Absorbed in the battle, he'd been shocked when Zero had protected both Xingke and the Empress. Lelouch was never one to take to the front lines; he was a commander, not a soldier. But his Shinkiro had certainly turned the tide.

And there had been something strange about the way Anya had fallen under the combined blades of C.C. and Chiba. It wasn't until later that Suzaku had realized the significance of it. But at the time, he'd withdrawn under Schneizel's orders, ambivalent at best about the whole situation.

Gino and Anya's abrupt enrollment at Ashford had come as a surprise, but since he was an aid to Nunnally, he wasn't able to return to the school to join them. It was something of a relief, and a disappointment. His last conversation with Milly had been a bittersweet one, and although he'd appreciated the sentiment, Suzaku had never been able to take her advice to relax. It would seem that her brand of magic wasn't strong enough to compete with Lelouch's, or Suzaku himself. And her event, although he was sad to miss it, had quickly spiraled out of control. What had Anya been thinking? But it had been nice to catch the end of it, and remember how fun the shenanigans had been while they'd lasted.

It was one of the first true smiles Aurora had seen Suzaku make. It wasn't bitter, or vicious, or spawned from broken memories. It was a moment of sheer pleasure that everything else hadn't managed to completely extinguish. It was seconds like those, a gentle curve of lips as his eyes went soft, that gave her hope for Suzaku. He was still in there, somewhere.

Suzaku had been waiting for Milly to call off her engagement to Lloyd. But she had done it for much better reasons than he'd hoped. He had always assumed she'd get tired of Lloyd's strange behavior and kick him to the curb; instead, she had done it for herself, which was much more fulfilling. Either way, Suzaku doubted Asplund would have acted any different.

When Shirley had requested him to meet her at the train station, he'd been surprised, and a little confused. The presence of Lelouch had complicated matters, and immediately set Suzaku on his guard. His old suspicions of Lelouch were resurrected, and he was left in that silent battle with his old friend again.

That hadn't dimmed the impact of the demarcation line. But it had distracted him long enough for Shirley to almost die. Once again, when they combined their forces, he and Lelouch were able to reverse the tide of fate. And his friend's pleas to the girl he refused to allow himself to love were the most heartfelt things Suzaku had heard him say in a very, very long time.

The brief peace that followed was sad, and lovely. For moment, nothing had changed.

But of course, everything had changed, and nothing could be as it once was. All it took was one thought of Euphie's pretty dress soaked in blood, and the soft joy of a boy was swallowed by the hard resolve of a man. It was hard to take up that shield again, however, with Shirley acting the way she did. He'd never really been able to figure her out, not once. But he'd always had a bit of a soft spot for her; Suzaku had always thought that she was pretty, and incredibly sweet. She'd reminded him a bit of Euphie from the first moment he met her.

It had infuriated him, to hear Shirley confess that she was in love with Lelouch. That monster didn't deserve her, didn't deserve such a love. Even as his mind raged that, his heart hadn't fully taken part. It was even stranger when she pinpointed the discord between them that both had hidden so well.

"She'd said that nothing was unforgiveable. But she was wrong." His voice was like stone, and for a moment, Aurora was confused. If he'd felt that way, he never would have joined forces with Lelouch in the end. So why…? Then it became clear. Not only had he never really forgiven Lelouch, but Suzaku had never really forgiven himself, either.

But such introspection couldn't go uninterrupted. Command had suited him, Aurora remembered from her research. He had a polite, unassuming air normally, but could display intimidation and leadership with a natural aplomb.

But, then, it hadn't been enough.

Facing the dead body of Shirley had seemed horribly familiar. Suzaku saw it often, in his dreams. Except it was Shirley who lay dead this time, not Euphie. He supposed he should have felt justified that Lelouch had lost the woman he loved, just as Suzaku had. And Lelouch had cracked at the loss just as Suzaku had. But he only felt sorrow, and shame. If she had lived, perhaps Shirley could have redeemed Lelouch and halted him from the inexorable path he was bound on. But they would never know.

The excuse of suicide had seemed weak, but the authorities had offered no other explanation. Considering her state of mind right before the incident, Suzaku would have thought it impossible. But she was dead. Who could have possibly wanted Shirley dead? His mind, having travelled one path for so long, reached the inevitable conclusion that it had to be Lelouch. He had claimed it was his heart, when in fact, it had been a crippled part of his soul that latched onto the possibility.

So Suzaku did what he always did when faced with impossible grief that had no reason and no justice. He sought to make someone give him the answers, no matter the cost. And if they paid dearly in the process, so be it.

His conversation with Kallen was not pleasant. Telling her of Shirley's death with an indifferent mask was hard enough. But voicing his accusation of Lelouch for the murder to draw a reaction out of Kallen was not something he was not proud of. What he did next, however, was even worse.

The threat of Refrain had repulsed him even as he'd presented it, but power had become an excuse, and Suzaku had pushed farther than he'd ever intended to go. Aurora knew of Kallen's mother's addiction. Kallen Kozuki had been, and still was, one of the most visible members of the Black Knights, and the easiest to gather data on. So Aurora knew the weight of the threat without Suzaku having to explain it.

"It's just that, her mother…" he trailed off, unable to speak of his shame. She merely laid a hand on his shoulder briefly.

"I know. Go on."

With the power that Suzaku had amassed, it was no surprise that he would try to take that course of action at some point. He'd sought to bend the world to his will. Why should some girl be a challenge? But of course, that thrust him down Zero's path. Lelouch's path. Just as the possibility was inevitable, so too was Suzaku's decision.

But the fury had still ridden him hard. He'd gone to Ashford to confront Lelouch, to no avail. Even the OSI had been compromised by Zero and his Geass. He'd had irrefutable proof that Lelouch had regained his memories. But Suzaku had never considered the cost to Nunnally when he'd aided in the destruction of Lelouch's memories. He was a soldier, after all, not a chess player. But it was no excuse to compromise Nunnally's safety, and so he'd masked his distress when speaking to her as he'd wrestled with the consequences. He'd never wanted to hurt her, but he had, the same way Lelouch had. With secrets and lies. It didn't take Nunnally's comparison of him to Lelouch to have Suzaku struggling with the path he'd taken. At the time, he'd still had enough willpower to fight it.

The news of the Emperor's disappearance had briefly lightened the weight of his indecision towards the action he should take, now that he was certain about Lelouch. But, as always, Suzaku was plagued with the decision of what was right. But questioning the rightness of his inaction only made him question the rightness of his action. And he'd known that with Kallen, he'd been utterly, horribly wrong.

He'd allowed the beating with no resistance. He'd known he'd deserved it. Kallen had hotly proclaimed that she'd hated him; but it was nothing compared to how much Suzaku hated himself. Aurora just shook her head very, very slightly, so as to keep him from seeing it. Ever the repenting sinner, Suzaku. It would be rather sad, if it wasn't strangely noble.

His wrong step with Kallen had made him question what he'd done, everything he'd done. And Anya's strange conversation on the value of memories had made Suzaku wonder, like he had with Lelouch, who else the Emperor had used his Geass on. How many lives Geass had twisted and warped and destroyed, besides his own.

They had been interrupted, however, by the Knight of the Round Suzaku despised, and the Knight of the Round that he'd hoped to replace. A storm was approaching, and it had seemed that Schneizel was wasting no time amassing his forces. He had been relieved that he hadn't been assigned to pilot the Guren – he had no desire to trespass on Kallen's Knightmare when his own was perfectly functional and comfortably familiar. But the question of the FLEIJA armament on the Lancelot had quickly dissolved any reprieve he might have felt. It was like Nina was handing him the key to the world's destruction, and expecting him to be the one to make the right decision, no matter how entrenched he would be in the heat of battle.

"Oh, Nina. She had no idea what she was doing, did she?" Aurora sighed, trying to mask her fury at Suzaku's deranged schoolmate.

"No," he said, resigned. "I don't believe she did."

But the ratification of the UFN charter had quickly distracted Suzaku. It had been a bold move, requiring the participating countries to surrender their militaries and contract the Black Knights as an independent, impartial defender. But it had suited Zero down to the ground. Lelouch had shifted his game; he'd begun as a terrorist, a rebel amassing illegal force. But he'd known that he couldn't stay that way forever. So he'd slowly legalized his position, both as Zero and as a liberator to Japan.

But the Emperor would never let such actions go unchallenged. And the threat to Nunnally had skyrocketed.

Suzaku hadn't known if he'd been expecting the call from Lelouch. And he hadn't known until he'd pressed the button whether or not he was going to accept it. He hadn't been surprised by Lelouch's admission of Zero, but it had burned, and made him wonder. After holding the veil of secrecy so long, what did he hope to gain by admitting the truth to Suzaku? It had quickly become apparent, however. He pled with Suzaku to protect Nunnally, to do what he could not now that he was trapped on the path he himself had designed.

Suzaku had challenged him, forcing Lelouch to beg when he'd already agreed to do as much before Nunnally's brother had even picked up the phone. Lelouch took it all, only focused on Suzaku's agreement to protect the sister they both loved. His requirement to meet at the Kururugi Shrine had surprised Aurora. What had Suzaku been intending with this?

Two of the most pivotal figures of the conflict were absent from the beginning of what was hailed as the decisive battle of the Rebellion. They'd been too busy battling each other. Both Lelouch and Suzaku had dressed in their old school uniforms, as if by tacit agreement. Although, neither had been to the Academy in weeks. There had been so much bitterness, so much loss, it had to have been all but impossible to span the gap between them.

It had been ugly, as Aurora guessed. Suzaku had taken his pound of flesh, had let the insults and accusations that had been rotting inside him fly. And, as always, there was the ghost of Euphie. Aurora was reminded of the way Suzaku had taken the attack from Kallen without defense; Lelouch's admission of his sins in desperation for Nunnally was quite similar. Both men were unafraid of punishment; in fact, if they believed they deserved it, they sought it out.

But even that hadn't been enough for Suzaku. Aurora had a hard time deciding if that would have been enough for her, either. And questions of Euphie's unnatural death of course turned to questions of Suzaku's unnatural life. Aurora sensed Lelouch had been lying before Suzaku repeated the question himself. Lelouch had always been a consummate performer, but a poor liar. And those closest to him had usually seen it. Aurora and Nunnally, in particular, had always been good at calling him on a falsehood.

Aurora was impressed with the hand that Suzaku had extended to Lelouch. She wasn't sure if she could have been able to do the same in his place, but it showed why, even at bloody, bitter odds, the two could count on each other. But when he spoke of Scheizel's set up and Lelouch's immediate accusation of betrayal, Aurora had to close her eyes for a moment as the sorrow and regret welled like blood from a small but deep wound.

They had been so close.

But one of Lelouch's famous contingencies wriggled him free from royal custody. As he flew away on a Geassed Guilford's Knightmare, Suzaku knew that they would never really be friends again. Lelouch's ability of Geass had been something Suzaku kept a tight secret, unsure of the ramifications or possibilities of the knowledge. But when faced with Schneizel, there was little he'd been able to do to duck the question, try as he might. Just like his younger brother, and perhaps even better, the second prince always knew the right place the pressure, the weak point to lean on. And what Suzaku had believed to be actions spurred by loyalty and caution were presented as selfishness and cowardice.

"Oh, Kannon," Aurora blurted before could stop herself. "He was always a pretentious ass devoted to Schneizel. The two of them were just pissed they hadn't managed to figure it out on their own, and long before then. Don't let them guilt you into paralysis, Suzaku. You do that enough on your own." He was shocked for a moment by her interruption. It took him a moment to regain the thread of the tale, rattled by the compassion and impatience that mingled in her voice.

Nina's desperate attempt to take command of the Lancelot only drove home the issue Suzaku had struggled with from the moment of the FLEIJA's introduction to his Knightmare. Could he bear the burden of that decision?

He'd hoped that he could use it as a deterrent. Suzaku sighed heavily.

"Because that always calms everything down. But I was right; nothing would stop Zero at this point." Lelouch had become twisted and cruel, powerless against his own power. Siccing his wretchedly loyal dog on Suzaku, Lelouch had left it to Jeremiah Gottwald to deal with the White Knight. Aurora had kept up with the happenings of Gottwald, but carefully. He'd always been delightfully blind, and rather fun to tease, so starched and desperate for approval. Aurora had cautiously liked him, back when he'd served Marianne. But after the Orange Incident, she had been rather disappointed at the sheer number of screws in his head that had wriggled loose.

When he described Nina's frantic demands to launch the FLEIJA, Aurora's hand balled into a fist. Suzaku seemed understanding of her, if distant and removed. Aurora couldn't make herself feel the same way, her jaw flexing. That mad little girl. What could she know of decisions that determined life or death, or what it felt to have blood stain your hands? Suzaku may have been a soldier, but Aurora had been a spy, and both professions were just as bloody. She had made mistakes, taken contracts that she told herself were in the right. But when she had felt the child in her die at the death of someone that she'd caused, either directly or indirectly, Aurora hadn't been so sure. She understood Suzaku's plight, but Nina? This was exactly why scientists should stay well clear of the front lines.

Suzaku had always fought with Kallen on even footing, and though their Knightmares had been extremely different, they were always well matched. But not in the Second Battle for Tokyo. The Seiten far outstripped the Lancelot, but Suzaku was too ingrained to back down. That, more than anything else, was why he blamed himself for what happened.

He'd wanted to accept his death. It was what he had been striving for years to achieve. But Geass corrupted even that. The only thing Suzaku was aware of was the sight of the warhead hurtling into space before erupting into a cataclysm. None of the other sensations – the way the button had clicked down satisfactorily under his thumb, the smell of sweat and oil and metal in the cockpit, the faint taste of blood in his mouth where he'd bitten his cheek from the jolt of deflecting one of Kallen's attacks, the faint creaking of Lancelot's joints as it fought to remain in the air despite its damage – all receded as the command took over, and he did the unthinkable.

He almost crumbled under the guilt of it. Thirty five million lives taken at his hand, and Nunnally's among them. Yet, he stood in the crater alone. He'd always been alone.

Hysteria had taken him in its sweaty grip, parts of him wrenching free and spinning out of control, destroying him like the blades of a crashing helicopter. He lost his kindness to Nina, and this was the final devolvement. That push of the trigger hurtled Suzaku to the deepest depths of his personal hell, where he was content to stay. Well, Aurora would see about that.

Suzaku hadn't heard until later that Lelouch had been found out by his order, and sentenced to death. It would seem that Rolo, that poor, broken little boy, managed to do the one thing that had mattered to him. He managed to save his big brother.

It was probably the disapproval and disdain of Cecile and Lloyd that caught him most by surprise. He supposed they had seen him change more than anyone, and were disappointed with how far he'd fallen. But he wouldn't succumb to Schneizel's plot. He'd taken the responsibility in his own soul for the disaster; he might as well take it publicly, as well. And like Lelouch, Suzaku spun the disaster to suit his needs. In the end, they were painfully alike, after all.

He'd scented Schneizel's desire for the throne from the moment they'd first met. Suzaku knew that, like him and Lelouch, Schneizel thirsted for power. If he gave him that, then Schneizel would have been forced to grant him the rank of the Knight of One. Aurora had liked Gino from his first introduction to the tale, and although Suzaku probably never made the connection, she could tell that the Knight of Three had been enraptured with the Black Knight ace. Such a star-crossed attraction warmed Aurora's heart.

So it was with him that Aurora internally sided when Suzaku told her of his intention to assassinate the Emperor. Not because she thought it was wrong – she would have kissed him if he'd managed it. But it was wrong for Suzaku. He was more than this; Gino had known it, Lloyd and Cecile had known it, and Aurora knew it. But could she make Suzaku believe it?

Finally, Suzaku's mind accepted that the ends justified the means. He'd gone to Kamine, still and silent inside not from peace, but because everything had been shattered. The fact that he'd managed to make it so long after without giving into some sort of crutch made Aurora grudgingly impressed.

He may have seemed calm as he faced the Emperor, but being caught by surprise by Bismark betrayed the chaos that he was still reeling in. The normal Suzaku would never have fallen for such an ambush. He spoke of Bismark's accusation of his betrayal with quiet calm, but Aurora was furious. What right did that man have to judge Suzaku's actions? What right did he have sit in judgment of Suzaku and find him wanting?

That was why she'd waited.

When Aurora had first found Suzaku, she'd thought to end him. Killing him would be easy, and would no doubt avenge the wrongs he'd committed on the other side of the world, against members of her family that she still harbored love for despite the cruel distance of time and fate. During the drive back to the clinic, before she'd radioed Kendra, she'd considered it.

But she hadn't known, not the full story. So she'd told herself that he had to live to tell the truth. Now that it was unfolding in front of her, Aurora knew that he had to live because of the truth. Because the truth was, he'd hardly lived at all.

He'd almost died at Bismark's hands, even as his command demanded flight, even as the Knight of One flung the harsh truths he was simply too angry to feel. But the bastard had been right about that, Aurora had to admit. Gentleness and compassion had been the best parts of Suzaku. And she'd do everything in her power to see to it that they were once again.

Finally, he'd given into the urgings of his command and ran. Not to survive, but to stop Lelouch before he interfered and ruined everything. They were both careening down the same path of self-destruction to save the world. The question had been, who would get there first?

But well placed mortar fire had sent him tumbling into a crevice, stopping his headlong dash to Lelouch, the prince who walked through flames that threatened to engulf everything. He was rescued by Anya before any further collapse could crush him, and woke to the puzzling presence of his fellow Knight accompanied by C.C.

What followed was a strange experience that even Aurora needed a moment to accept. She'd never been particularly religious, but the idea of C's world certainly challenged much of what she had always thought about the universe she found herself in. When Anya had collapsed, Suzaku had felt stripped to the bone under C.C.'s considering gaze, and her quiet comparison of their thwarted quests for death.

Suzaku's request to enter C's world was expected by both C.C. and Aurora. No, a soldier would never stand by as a battle was waged, a battle where he could make a difference. And there, as the Sword of Akasha threatened to rear its head, he was needed. Needed to jolt Lelouch into action, aid him in the only option he had left. They'd presented each other with the perfect opportunity to gain what they both sought; the death of Emperor Charles zi Britannia. Suzaku had all but forgotten the presence of Marianne until she'd thrown Euphemia in his face.

Their grand scheme to stop time, to halt death, had been a vague, hopeless dream, one a child often grips to. Pathetic that two people of such power clung to it. The Emperor and Marianne may have been seduced by it, but Lelouch and Suzaku had fought too hard, sacrificed too much to allow such an existence to ever come to fruition. It had dawned on Suzaku that the reason Euphie and Shirley had kept their silence about Zero's identity, even as they died when they must have surely known it, was because they'd trusted Zero. They'd trusted Lelouch.

He'd blocked Marianne with pleasure, and had watched the mask of a loving mother slide away and shatter like glass. It was the only time he'd ever truly felt justice; protecting the future Euphie had dreamed of, and doing it at Lelouch's side. It had been truly awesome, watching Lelouch slide on the cloak of power. Instead of seeking it, he'd accepted it. And as a man who'd destroyed his own family, Suzaku understood the burden Lelouch undertook when he erased his parents from existence.

Even then, he hadn't forgiven Lelouch. Aurora knew that Suzaku would never forgive Lelouch, not really.

But there had been other matters to attend to. Aurora had been glued to the Pendragon broadcast, watching with open-mouthed shock as her skinny, pretty older brother took the throne, aided by a righteous, smiling Suzaku. But Aurora's suspicions had been immediately aroused. She rejoiced at the news of Charles' death, but what in the world had Lelouch been plotting? And Suzaku… He'd looked in control, justified. But through the tiniest chink in his armor, she'd seen his self-loathing, his determined march that came at the cost of himself.

These two boys – no, men – had shaken the world to its core, and they only wore their simple school uniforms.

With those two working together, they'd been invincible. Aurora had known it even then.

It had been hard to read his actions at first, but as Suzaku described Lelouch's efforts to wipe away the past, erase all dissenters, and secure his place on the throne, Aurora started piecing it together. Lelouch's Britannia wasn't an empire; it was a dictatorship. The presence of Lloyd and Cecile had been secured by Suzaku. He didn't want them subjected to Lelouch's purge, and he knew they could be trusted.

He admitted that it had been strange, referring to Lelouch with trust and deference after so much time spent questioning and hating him. All for the sake of the Zero Requiem.

Aurora wanted to pounce on those words, that simple phrase that had stuck like a thorn in her mind. But she kept her mouth shut, smiling a little as Suzaku mentioned his appreciation of Lelouch's intent to minimize the legend of Princess Massacre. It was true; few remembered Euphemia today in the glaring infamy of her older brother Lelouch. The Demon Emperor.

But there was one obstacle that couldn't be brushed aside: Schneizel.

The discontent among the remaining members of the Round was to be expected. From the intelligence Aurora was able to gather about the Lancelot Albion, she realized that the greatest warriors of Britannia had never stood a chance. Gino's pained offer of clemency had made Suzaku a little guilty, but he'd come too far now. There was simply no going back. Aurora believed that, utterly. What she didn't agree with was Suzaku's complete inability to move forward.

The Tristan hadn't stood a chance, especially when Suzaku rattled Gino's cage. But the Galahad was another matter. Aurora had managed to catch the transmission at its peak, and had watched mutely as Suzaku triumphed even over the power of Geass. All it had taken was the will – the command – to live.

He hadn't liked Lelouch leaving him behind to attend the UFN conference. Suzaku didn't do well with inaction. But he'd waited, prepped and ready for the slightest signal from his Emperor to spring into action. All past aside, when given the reason for it, Suzaku was an incredibly loyal person. He'd been loyal first to his ideals, then to Euphie. At her loss, he was loyal to his vengeance, then his quest for power. In the end, he was loyal to Lelouch.

Loyal enough to fly into the Ashford Academy's gym like a lightning bolt at his Emperor's claim of the most important ruling trait. Aurora remembered it vaguely. The will to destroy, even oneself. It was all quickly becoming clear, but she remained in rapt silence, listening to this strange, terrible, brilliant plan unfold.

With Suzaku's might, Lelouch had held the UFN representatives hostage. His Britannia became clear; it wasn't one to trifle with. It was one to fear, fear more than the empire of his father. But Schneizel hadn't been waiting patiently. The destruction of Pendragon had rocked Suzaku, but not for the right reasons. The casualties had appalled him, yes, but it also served as a vicious reminder of his own sin with that weapon.

And then, Schneizel had played his ace. Aurora obviously already knew that Nunnally survived, but she couldn't think of a worse way for Lelouch and Suzaku to learn of it. Nunnally had never played chess with her brother, and had never really witnessed Suzaku as a soldier. And Schneizel had always seen Lelouch as an opponent, never as a savior. Since Aurora had neither of these limits to her grasp of the situation, she could see what neither had until it had simply been too late. Struggling against tears, she listened to Suzaku describe the saddest thing of all; the loss of the bond between Lelouch and Nunnally.

He'd sacrificed it, to save her from the guilt. Yes, Nunnally had been the reason Lelouch had become Zero, but he could never tell her that. She was too kind to bear such a burden. Suzaku was too used to moving beyond the loss of the one most important to him to be as affected as Lelouch. That was why he'd been brought into the fold; for his power, yes, and for his strength on the battlefield. But Suzaku's purpose had been to keep Lelouch on track, to keep him focused on the end. No matter the means.

Between his sword and shield, Lelouch had been shaken from his indecision, and embarked on the battle that would change the world. Suzaku had approached it like he had every other; like it was his last. That wasn't true, not then, nor any of the other times he'd launched the Lancelot. But that lie he told himself made him ready to do anything. It heightened his Geass command, and although the odds were incredibly unlikely, he could always lose, despite his best efforts. Even then, he'd still clung to the possibility of death.

He'd known of Lelouch's plan for Mt. Fuji. He's regretted it, even as he'd urged Lelouch to put it into motion. Once again, when his pieces fell, Lelouch activated his plot with the board. All but alone, Suzaku had charged into the fray, cutting through the opposition with ease. But he was only one man, and being split between the forward and rear lines had halved his effectiveness. That didn't stop Suzaku, though. He may not be unstoppable, but they'd have to pry the Lancelot's controls from his cold, dead hands before he gave up the fight. But he'd known it was coming; the moment when the battle would be decided by the Anti-FLEIJA.

Suzaku hadn't witnessed the final, redeeming exchange between Lelouch and Nina, but it had been related to him later. Aurora allowed herself to soften in regard to her, at least a little. Really, all of her felt soft; bruised and sad and resigned. She knew how this would all end, and she now knew why. But that didn't make it any easier for her heart to accept, to hear Suzaku say the words. But she knew, better than most, the power of words. The earth-shattering consequences of lies and truths. So this mattered, and was something the both of them would have to endure.

Even reading the reports of the battle, it was hard to believe that they'd actually achieved it. That Lelouch's incredible mind and Suzaku's relentless skill had neutralized a weapon that had more power than a natural disaster. She was impressed, and miserable. To think that such amazing gifts had been forced to be used that way, that both men were dragged to such a field of battle. She despaired for man, and for Lelouch and Suzaku.

It had given them the chance they'd needed, and Lelouch, Suzaku, and a small force had snuck through the Blaze Luminous of the Damocles. No hiding behind that shield now. His confrontation with Gino was harder than he'd expected. He'd been a friend, and Suzaku regretted the way he'd laid waste to the modified Tristan. But Gino had certainly given him one hell of a fight, and he'd underestimated Gino's final intention.

Kallen had been another matter. On par with the Albion, the only way they would end it was when they'd torn each other apart. Out of respect, they'd allowed a moment to exchange words. But there was too much aggression from the past, too many battles fought without resolution. They crowded the moment, until it erupted into battle. As always, it had come down to the unending argument of their ideological differences. There was really no right or wrong side; only their own side.

He chuckled quietly, bitterly. All of the fancy hardware, all the impressive additions that had made the Lancelot and Guren so special, so unbeatable, were stripped away, and the battle devolved into a brawl. But even using his Geass command, there was no defeating Kallen. As always, their battles were ground into a draw.

Aurora listened intently. She'd been wondering this whole time, since she'd first pulled off his mask; how had Suzaku survived? He'd been ready to back down, to sit in silence as his Lancelot exploded. But his command and the promise he'd made to Lelouch forced him to do otherwise. Kicking open a lower hatch of the cockpit, he'd managed to reach a survivable distance before the Lancelot died, one final time. The explosion had hurled him into the wall of the Damocles, shattering his left wrist and cheekbone, a piece of shrapnel almost impaling him and rupturing a kidney. He'd lain there, drifting with a concussion and several second degree burns along his back and arms as the warmth of his blood gushed out onto the cold metal. He didn't know when those under Lelouch's order had managed to scoop him up, but it was in time to get him into surgery to save his life, repairing his face and wrist in the process.

He'd been under anesthesia when Lelouch had used his Geass on Nunnally, when he'd taken command of the entire world. But Lloyd told him later that when Lelouch had walked away from Nunnally, despite her spilling out of her wheelchair onto the stairs, he'd stiffened and twitched. Fighting his ventilator, it had seemed that even unconscious, Suzaku had felt Lelouch and Nunnally were in pain, and about to enact the final part of the Requiem.

Lloyd and Cecile had attended his fake funeral, though few others did. Milly, Nina, and Rivalz were the only others who knew Suzaku personally who stood in the rain as his empty coffin was lowered into the ground. Lelouch had been too busy to witness his Knight of Zero's burial, not that it had really mattered. Suzaku had still been recovering, and Lloyd had joked that it was too morbid to attend his own funeral.

Healed just enough to complete the final stage of the Zero Requiem, Suzaku dressed in the unfamiliar costume of Zero. He'd stood on that road, his hand trembling lightly on the hilt of the sword. It had been sweltering hot, but his fingers and face had felt cold. If he made a single mistake, then this would have all been for nothing. But could he do it? Could he do what Lelouch and he had agreed to, what his Emperor commanded?

Lelouch had certainly acted the part. Aurora could remember the surprised and dismayed expression on his face when he'd caught sight of that purple and black mask. What she now knew to be Suzaku had swiftly outpaced the Knightmare's fire. He hadn't allowed himself a moment to look at the faces he'd passed, the shock and belief, the suspicion and hope. He'd caught a glance of Kallen out of the corner of his eye, and thought that, maybe, she'd understood.

When he'd closed in on Lelouch, Aurora could remember not knowing what she hoped would happen as she'd watched, frozen and wide-eyed. Zero's aim was obviously assassination, and the Demon Emperor deserved it. But what about Lelouch?

They'd put on a show for the world, and the world had believed it. His sword had been straight and sure, but Suzaku's hands had been numbed as he'd thrust the sword through the ribcage of his friend. His enemy. His emperor.

He hadn't been sure what he'd expected to feel, but it hadn't been this incredible, rending grief and regret. This was what Lelouch had wanted, what Suzaku had wanted. But the price had been so incredibly dear. Aurora was unaware of the tears dripping off her chin, her heart crying out against Lelouch's last command to Suzaku. To sacrifice his ordinary, wonderful life to always be a Knight of Justice, to always be Zero.

"It was my punishment, and I was glad to accept it. After all, any chance I had at that kind of life had long, long ago been killed." Aurora wanted to jump up, to scream at him. It didn't have to be that way! He could have that; he deserved that! But that sad, accepting smile on Suzaku's face warned her that it was too soon. He couldn't hear those words, he wouldn't.

One last time, the two of them achieved the impossible. They destroyed an evil Emperor, united the world in the hope of moving forward, and saved so many who had been so loyal and so strong. Schneizel had said it also; world peace against a single life. Was there really any comparison?

She remembered the stripes of Lelouch's blood on Suzaku's mask, remembered the way the new Zero had pointed his sword, as if directing Lelouch. Directing him right to Nunnally. Nunnally had told Suzaku later that a single touch of Lelouch's hand had made everything clear. And there had been nothing Suzaku could do to stop her pained sobbing as her brother bled out in front of her. After all, it was all his fault.

"Your brother died a hero, Aurora. He sacrificed his life for the world, and though he can never be publicly recognized, those of us who know the truth will always be indebted to him. Every great thing that has happened in these last few years have all been thanks to Lelouch's sacrifice. He was the man who held the world in his hand, and gave it back to the people." He spoke with righteous conviction, and Aurora could see that it was this thought that had supported him through much of his own darkness after Lelouch's death. But even that had faltered eventually.

And what about Suzaku? The world thought he was a dead traitor. Only a few select people knew that he was Zero, Kallen among them. Todoh, Cornelia, and Kaguya had all dropped some subtle hint over the past few years that confirmed their knowledge of his true identity. But none of them had said anything.

Suzaku was left with nothing after all he'd done. All he'd won, all he'd achieved, all he'd sacrificed, he was left with nothing but an empty mask and a broken existence. Orders and repentance weren't enough; if they were, he wouldn't be here. He was dying under this weight of penitence and sorrow. Aurora decided, with a fiery finality, that she wouldn't stand for it.

Like several of her siblings, Aurora couldn't tolerate injustice. But she resembled Lelouch in her unswerving determination to reverse it.

Night had fallen, and if she was exhausted, then Suzaku must be crippled with the need for sleep. She bid him a quiet goodnight, walking out of the room with Bannock on her heels after scooping up the plate with his untouched sandwich. She didn't think she could say anything to him right now, and he must be tired of talking. Aurora made her way downstairs, depositing the plate on the counter before marching outside. Blindly, she stepped out onto the grass, where the moon slipped over the horizon and shone like a pearl, the trees dappling the ground with their shade. Plunking down beneath an oak some distance from the house, Aurora pulled her knees against her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

She drew a deep breath in, then out.

Burying her face into her kneecaps, she sobbed like something inside her was broken. She cried for all of them. For the cycle of violence which had only ended when someone incredible was lost, and those left in the wake who had only truth to battle their pain. She'd wanted to know; she'd needed to know. But she hadn't thought it would hurt like this, so fresh and cutting. Aurora had watched Lelouch die. There could have been only one conclusion to Suzaku's story. But the reason he'd died almost made it worse.

"So, Lelouch," she whispered into the dark, her voice broken by the sobs. "You really were one of the best of us, after all." She cried long after she'd used all her tears. When she finally emerged from the haze of grief, Ban tucked against her side and the light in Suzaku's window extinguished, Aurora took shakily to her feet.

Lelouch was gone, lost to the flow of time. Nothing, not even their love of him, could bring him back. But Suzaku was still here, and if anyone had been so slighted by fate, it was him. She mourned for her brother, but she was determined to fight for his friend.

It was the least he deserved.

* * *

_Whoo. Even breaking off the previous chapter, this thing is huge. I couldn't really justify splitting it again, and I didn't really want to. So here is Suzaku's pov of R2. I embellished a few things, but about 98% is taken directly from the series. And, yes, I cried like an infant during Re;. Again._

_It's probably pretty apparent that I didn't care for Nina. She drove me freakin' crazy, and pissed me off on multiple occasions. Honestly, I had forgotten a lot of the finer details of the series, and Jeremiah's Geass Canceller really freaked me out for a while there, worried that he was going to destroy a huge aspect of my story. But I remembered, and we were OK. _

_Has my opinion of Suzaku changed at all watching it again with _Phoenix_ in the works? Not at all. If anything, it makes me more sympathetic. Besides informing Aurora, this recap serves to remind the audience of how much Suzaku suffered in such a short period of time. Here's a reference: he met Euphemia in August. She died in September. Didn't seem like it at the time, did it? Besides the year long break that upped their ages, everything that happened was jam-packed into weeks, or maybe months at a time. We don't really get that sense while watching the series, since Lelouch is obviously the focus. But when you edit that out, it's pretty much more than a human could possibly stand. Hence, my story and drive. _

_I'm sure this has bored many of you, but I've rather enjoyed it. It's actually quite fun, trying to look at the series from a unique perspective and add my own elements that add something both to the telling and to Aurora and Suzaku. But it's over now. From here on out, it's original storylines. Tally-ho!_

_Hope you like it!_

_Love, Tango_


	11. Dying from Truth

Aurora was a light sleeper, and it took about half an hour before she could read herself to sleep. So much was whirling around her head, her eyes would have crossed if she tried to process it all at once. So she was determined to get some sleep and absorb it all over tomorrow. But she'd only been out for about an hour when Ban woke her up.

Her irritated grunting and shoving him away was not sufficient; Ban kept trying to lift her arm with his head, a low whining vibrating in his throat. When she finally sat up and squinted at the gray dog that was all but invisible in the dark, he was standing on the bed, looking at her with wide eyed expectation. It was like he was saying, "Can't you tell? Something's wrong!"

It took only a moment before the puzzlement gave way to dread, her stomach dropping as she flung aside the comforter and leapt from the bed. Ban lunged down behind her, following her with a tightly clamped tail and worried eyes. Opening the door to Suzaku's room quickly, she paused in the doorway, her sharp eyes making out his sleeping form in the dark.

Moving on the faint moonlight instead of switching on the light, Aurora crept closer carefully. At first, she thought that Suzaku was even now soundly asleep, still and quiet. But as she neared the bedside, she realized that he was locked with tension, his breathing sharp and shallow while his brows furrowed deeply. His fist was balled, and he broke his tight silence with a tiny whimper that was an unmistakable sound of pain. She had to wake him up; she couldn't leave him struggling in his personal darkness.

Reaching over, she switched on the lamp, the soft gold glow throwing his face into stark shadows. Grimacing in preparation, she reached down and shook his good shoulder, knowing that she was probably too close to avoid a blow when he came up swinging. Sure enough, the bunched fist smacked against her right shoulder, and even as she winced at the dull pain, Aurora pushed him back down on the bed with more force than most thought she was capable of.

"Wake up! Come on, Suzaku, wake up!" At her sharp, brisk words, his eyes blinked open, blank and trapped. He struggled against her instinctively, but she managed to keep him down. He was still weak from the injuries and withdrawal; otherwise, Aurora knew that restraining him would have been impossible. "Suzaku! You're here with me. It's Aurora, and you're safe." As he blinked his way clear of the dream and went limp under her restraining hands, she heaved a relieved sigh before sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked at him silently as he pressed a hand first to his eyes, then to his mouth, waiting for him to say something. When he continued his silence, she had no choice but to speak.

"Are you OK?" Suzaku pushed himself up, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of being supine and helpless. He was still breathing quickly and startlingly pale, but he managed to drag himself together and look at her with a guarded, distant expression, clearing his throat to free the trapped screams.

"I'm fine. It was nothing." When he didn't elaborate, Aurora felt her brows crease in concern.

"Are you sure?" He just shrugged, looking out the window at the land silvered by the moon.

"Like I said, it was nothing." Aurora wasn't convinced.

"Because if you-"

"It was nothing, alright?" Suzaku snapped. "It was a nightmare! It's not like I'm exactly a stranger to them! They haunted me before, and they'll haunt me for the rest of my life! Happy now?" Most people would probably have backed away and left the snarling, injured man to his own devices for the rest of the night. But as Aurora had revealed, she was no ordinary person. She merely narrowed her eyes before gently wrapping her arms around him. Suzaku immediately stiffened, leaning away from her as far as her arms would allow.

"What are you-"

"Just, for once in your life, accept the comfort that's offered. I'm not an idiot, nor am I blind. You need this. For once, just take it." Her tone was abrupt and impatient by his ear, leaving him no choice but to subside into silence. Eventually, his uninjured arm crept up carefully around her shoulders, holding her like she was porcelain. But it was he who was the fragile one.

Aurora waited, slowly rubbing a hand up and down his back in a soft, comforting rhythm. She was careful of the bruising she remembered from changing his bandages, smoothing the hair at the nape of his neck as Suzaku slowly relaxed. His head shifted, pressing his forehead into her shoulder as he shuddered hard. She felt his hand fist in her loose t-shirt, and Aurora merely kept stroking his back, patiently silent.

It was hard to tell how much time had passed. Suzaku kept her close, mentally pouring his fears and terrors into her comforting silence, the muscles along his arms and chest vibrating. No words were exchanged, and she didn't think there needed to be. It was enough that this time, he didn't have to survive it alone.

When he finally released her and leaned back against the pillows, he looked more exhausted than she'd seen him in days. Their hands didn't touch, but their fingers were only an inch from each other on the blanket.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. He looked at her, bemused. "Dredging all those memories up must have triggered the nightmares." Suzaku's mouth crooked.

"They're always there. The only way to keep them at bay is the drugs." Aurora struggled not to frown.

"That doesn't have to be true." He just looked away, his eyes shuttered with distance and fatigue. Deciding now was not the time to tackle the issue of his psychological addiction since he was still wrung out from the physical battle with it, Aurora stood and walked away, switching off the lamp before shutting the door gently behind her. She made it back into her room before she collapsed on the bed, burying her fingers in her hair as she braced her elbows on her knees. Looking up, she made eye contact with Bannock, who stood, staring at her with a very intent expression. It dragged out a smile.

"What? Should I call you Lassie now?" Ban merely stepped forward and very gently licked the back of Aurora's hand before shooting onto the bed. "Yeah, yeah, you're right." She settled back down under the blanket, switching on the light and slipping on her reading glasses again before picking up her book.

She finished it, and started another one. But nothing could settle her back down to sleep. It wasn't until the wee hours of the morning that Aurora finally fell into a light, twitchy sleep, her book still in her hand, her glasses askew on her face, and her bedside lamp still burning.

* * *

The next morning, Aurora slept long past her regular wake up time of seven. It wasn't her internal clock that awoke her, however, and neither was it Ban. Something, a low creak, had her blinking awake, her vision lopsided and blurry. Spotting her dog standing by the door, his tail slowly wagging as he looked back at her, Aurora glared at him, then at the door, not quite sure what she was irritated about. On her way up, she glanced at the old-fashioned clock next to the lamp.

9:54. Yep, that would do it.

Aurora didn't do oversleeping well. It was the same reason she rarely napped; she woke up grumpier and more tired than she was when she went to sleep. Stomping to the door with a bad-tempered snarl just waiting to steal across her lips, she yanked open the door to see a standing, somewhat embarrassed Suzaku in the threshold of his room.

They stared at each other silently for a moment, him surprised and her confused, before Aurora spoke. Well, it was more of a growl.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" The belligerent, aggressive tone dragged up instincts of his military training, and Suzaku's spine snapped straight. Realizing she was squinting at him through crooked reading glasses, Aurora ripped them off her nose, hooking them on the collar of her giant gray t-shirt. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"I was just-"

"Marching your ass back into your room and getting back in bed. You are in no shape to be roaming around, and I will be damned if you re-injure yourself because you've got a wild hair to start wandering around the place. Go. Now." She had a way of lingering over the _n_ in "now" that was strangely threatening, baring her canines as she spat the word out. In the distant mists of his memory, Suzaku vaguely remembered his mother speaking to him in the same way when he was in trouble.

Before he could think to disobey, she stomped across the hallway, turning him around with little grumpy shoves and propelling him back to his bed. He tried to protest, but Aurora pretended she was deaf, settling him down without even acknowledging his argument. She left the room without looking at him, parting only with the low command of "Hold, Ban," to her dog. As Aurora shut the door behind her, the dog she called Ban sat by it, his eyes trained on Suzaku. It seemed that his legs were too long to actually sit, leaving his haunches floating in the air. It was clearly difficult, considering the muscular strain visible along his back. Eventually, the dog cocked his hips before walking himself down, his neck still erect and his gaze childishly magnetized to Suzaku.

"I don't suppose you'll let me out, will you?" he murmured. The dog's ears popped up and he leapt to his feet, trotting towards Suzaku with the aim of a missile. "No, no! Wait, I didn't mean-" But instead of the dog lunging for his throat with bared teeth, Ban merely gathered himself and neatly leapt onto the bed next to Suzaku's legs. He thought briefly about pushing the dog off, but he wasn't exactly a lap dog.

He hadn't known dogs could be this big. Really, this Ban was more of a small horse than a dog. His legs were ridiculously long, his ribcage massive and his waist tiny. Gray as charcoal with black on his legs, back, and the tip of his tail, the dog sported a black mask that lent the appearance of a wolf. As he settled down and laid his head on Suzaku's leg, Ban gazed at him with his liquid brown eyes. There wasn't a drop of aggression there. Holding out his hand hesitantly, the dog briefly lifted his head to sniff it, then dropped it back down. Praying Ban would warn him with a growl before he ripped off his hand, Suzaku stretched out his fingers, running them hesitantly over the dog's silky ears.

When Ban didn't move, Suzaku stroked him more firmly, marveling at how such a strong-looking dog could be so soft. He'd tried to get up and find something to do – he was unaccustomed to feeling bored, and didn't like the way inactivity left his mind vulnerable. He'd thought perhaps Aurora had left, going to get supplies or on one of the walks he thought he remembered her taking. But he hadn't been fast enough.

"She did look pretty adorable, though. Didn't she?" he murmured to Ban, his smile a little crooked and unfamiliar as he twined the dog's ear through his fingers. As if in agreement, the dog flopped over on his side, his entire length pressed against Suzaku's legs, Ban's head on his hip. If he had met Aurora even two years ago, she would have been his height, if a little taller. Since he'd never stood next to her before this morning, not that he really remembered, Suzaku hadn't realized how tall she was. But the awkward growth spurt that had plagued him last year put Suzaku a solid four inches taller than Aurora. With that gigantically baggy gray t-shirt obscuring her upper body and almost dropping to the hem of her shorts, she'd looked like a cranky rain cloud on long, gorgeous legs. Aurora had clearly slept in the braid she'd worn yesterday, the tail slung over her shoulder bursting with stray hairs and the left side of her head looking like her golden hair had exploded. Her glasses, which he often forgot that she sometimes wore, had slipped down her nose, one lense still in front of her eye while the other hung down near her cheekbone. There were faint shadows under her eyes, and such a cantankerous expression on her face, that Suzaku didn't know whether to laugh or run. He'd settled on the vague mortification of being caught when he'd used to be all but invisible with his stealth.

As he was barely able to make out the thunder of the shower, Suzaku assumed she was remedying her appearance, as ridiculously appealing as it had been. He couldn't decide if he wanted her to improve her attitude along with it. After Aurora's incredible patience, understanding, and generosity, it was a bit of a relief to know that she could wake up crabby and rude, just like a normal person. Suzaku wasn't comfortable with saints.

Frowning as he realized how fondly he'd thought of Aurora, Suzaku shifted his gaze from the apparently snoozing dog to the window. It had rained briefly this morning, the soft patter waking Suzaku up. It was one of the most pleasant ways he'd come out of sleep in his memory. But now, the sun was shining, and it looked like the grass and trees were laced with diamonds. Something tugged at his memory, but was quickly swallowed by his guilt. He had no business thinking of Aurora in any way but gratitude and a vague suspicion. Not only could he offer her absolutely nothing, but he loved Euphemia. Now, forever, and always. No one, not even her half-breed sister, could replace her.

His face tipping into a scowl, he traced the edges of the black markings on Ban's face. He hadn't thought of anyone, any woman, like that since before he'd met Euphie. And he refused to ever again. But it was disconcerting that Aurora tempted him, that something about her made him want to reach out and grasp something that had been taken from him long ago.

It wasn't long until the soft patter of footsteps emerged from the end of the hall, ending on the quick, brutal click of Aurora's door. All the women Suzaku had been around in his life would remain sequestered in their bedroom for another half hour – the female ritual was one that brought a faint sweat to Suzaku's palms. But not ten minutes later, footsteps reappeared in the hall outside his room, quickly clattering down the stairs.

Ban lifted his head for a moment, gazing at the door as if waiting for it to swing open. When it remained shut, however, he dropped his head back down heavily, sighing with a sort of patience that sounded distinctly human. Suzaku just smiled faintly and stroked the dog's head, telling himself that he wasn't bored. It was, of course, a lie.

When she returned with breakfast, Ban leapt off the bed as soon as Aurora opened the door, his tail wagging wildly in a circle as she came in balancing a bowl and several cups in her hands expertly.

"Yes, yours is downstairs. Go on." Like a gray bullet, he was out the door and clambering down the stairs, his nails clicking faintly on the tiles of the kitchen as he scouted out his food. She bumped the door almost closed with her hip before striding over to the bed. Her damp hair had been scraped back brutally into a long tail, her jeans well-worn and white at the seams, her white long-sleeved t-shirt hugging to her curves.

"And as for you," Aurora said, placing a bowl of oatmeal on Suzaku's lap along with a spoon. As Aurora turned her back to settle with her usual mug of tea and her book in her beloved rocker, Suzaku grimaced at the bowl. Oatmeal. Blegh. He'd practically lived on the thick glop the drill sergeants affectionately called "oatmeal" his first few years of training in the Britannian military. It did not bring back fond memories, and he'd never really developed a taste, or tolerance, for it.

But, catching the arch look Aurora shot him over the rim of her reading glasses, he sighed and picked up the spoon, swallowing the first spoonful with a stoic grimace. He was surprised, however, when it wasn't that bad. She had a heavy hand with the cinnamon and nutmeg, and he guessed that she'd used milk and brown sugar, more decadent options than Suzaku usually consumed when dealing with oatmeal.

She granted him a smile when he scraped the bowl clean. Suzaku had a feeling Aurora was still a little out of sorts from her late wake-up. He decided that he would wait to ask her about some sort of distraction until she was in a more amenable frame of mind.

He lasted about fifteen minutes.

"So, I was wondering if maybe we could go for a walk."

"No." She said it so quickly, the word almost clipped the tail end of his sentence.

"But-"

"No, Suzaku. You're not ready." Her blatant command over him made his teeth grind. Struggling with his patience, he reminded himself to be polite. He'd never had to reach for that, but it had become harder and harder over the last couple of years. His patience had slipped away, the mellowness Lelouch had one remarked upon ground away by time and circumstance like a rock slowly dissolving under the sea's onslaught. It left nothing but his overwrought discipline in its wake.

"Please, I can't just sit here another day doing nothing. I don't…I prefer not to let my mind wander." Finally looking up from the page of her book that her eyes had been glued to since the moment he'd started talking, Aurora gazed at him consideringly, her brow arched slightly.

"Well, what do you want to do? Besides anything physical," she quickly added. Suzaku really had no idea. He couldn't remember the last time he'd inactive by choice.

"How about something to read?" Aurora suggested.

"I could go downstairs and pick something out," Suzaku quickly volunteered. The idea of a book was lukewarm at best, but perhaps he'd at least get to see something more of the house he'd been living in for about a week. She just smiled knowingly.

"No, but you can tell me what you like, and I can bring you back up a few selections." He huffed out a breath. He really didn't have a preference for reading material, and had only latched onto the idea in the hopes of a change of scene. When Suzaku remained moodily silent, Aurora continued.

"There's a deck of cards around here somewhere, and I know a fair few games. Or I could drag out a puzzle I saw in storage."

"You were a great kid on rainy days, weren't you?" Suzaku accused sourly. Aurora marked her page with her finger before closing the book, laughing lightly.

"Far from it. My mother used to call me a little plane that had a jet engine. I was a notorious menace on rainy days. But I've had the few options there are pounded into my head enough times to know them by rote. Being wound like a top doesn't come in handy on stakeouts, either." Suzaku furrowed his brow in question.

"It only took a few times of me incessantly announcing that I was bored before George demanded that I get myself under control. Either I quieted down, or I stayed home. Which was worse. So I figured out how to occupy my brain enough to keep my body quiet. Took a few months till I managed, but it was worth it." Suzaku thought that over. She didn't seem obviously hyperactive, but she had an immense reserve of energy and strength that he'd glimpsed a few times.

"What do you like to do, Suzaku? Hobbies, pastimes, diversion?" Suzaku faltered.

What _did_ he like to do? He'd never really established a sort of hobby that occupied his time; everything he had was devoted wholeheartedly to his quest, whatever it had been during the roller coaster ride two years ago. Working out had kept his mind busy and his body toned, but did he like it, or did he just depend on it to keep him from imploding? It had occurred to him before that beyond his role as a soldier, Suzaku Kururugi was basically empty. He had no other defining aspects, no other part of himself to focus on. It was depressing, and pathetic.

"I… I don't know," he whispered, his brow furiously knitted at his own worthlessness. So distracted, Suzaku didn't notice when Aurora stood. When he caught movement out of the corner of his eye, he looked over to see her standing next to him, a thick, square sketch pad in her hand and a bulky, industrial looking pencil clamped between her fingers, a stubby eraser sticking out of her fist like another thumb.

"Here. See what you can do with this." Instead of waiting for him to take them, she deposited the items in his lap before sitting again. Suzaku helplessly stared at the items in his lap, almost afraid to pick up the pencil. Failure was not something he could handle, and had never really learned how to accept and move on from. So why try something he undoubtedly had no talent with?

"You ever draw before?" she asked lightly, flipping a page as she spoke, her flashing lenses still focused on the book.

"Not in a very long time," he admitted weakly. He'd been absent or otherwise involved when the class was gathered to work on art during his brief stint at Ashford, his one attempt during Art Week left unfinished. He'd been much too distracted by Nunnally's kidnap and his military duties to focus on the drawing of Lelouch. It had been one of the worst grades he'd ever received, a half-finished rough sketch that didn't look like much of anything. And the last time he'd put pencil to paper in an attempt to draw something, he hadn't yet met Lelouch. He remembered a vague sort of enjoyment and accomplishment associated with the task, but every child felt like a master when they put forms on a piece of paper, regardless of actual skill. Hesitantly, he opened the pale gray cover, revealing solid, coarse pages designed for art. His eyes strangely magnetized to the clean ivory paper, Suzaku ran his finger lightly along the edges of the sheets. They were too broad to even threaten a paper cut.

"What should I draw?" he said, glancing over at Aurora. This was her idea, after all. The least she could do was offer a little guidance. She just shrugged, still not looking at him.

"Whatever you want. That's the best part, I guess." At a loss, Suzaku glanced around the room. There were plenty of things to draw. But did he _want_ to draw any of them?

Just then, Bannock slid into the room, licking his chops in a decidedly satisfied manner. He circled on the rug, and dropped down. But instead of staying in a tight, curled ball, Ban flopped over on his side, his long legs stretched out and his back arched. It was almost as if the dog was trying to occupy as much space as possible. His huge ribcage rose once in an explosive sigh before settling into its regular rhythm.

Before he had a chance to second-guess himself, Suzaku snatched up the pencil and began to sketch out fast, strong strokes on the paper. All too quickly, he was absorbed, sketching Ban on a forgotten, empty art notebook and completely disregarding everything else.

Aurora was afraid to move.

Suzaku's face exuded such intensity as he worked the pencil and eraser with equal fervor. Keeping her head tilted towards her book, she watched him carefully out of the corner of her eye, mesmerized. She had a feeling that something very important was happening, but she couldn't say what, exactly. Even if Aurora wasn't certain what was unfolding in that human silence, she kept utterly still, loathe to interrupt.

He worked on the picture of Ban for at least two hours. Not a word was spoken, but the room was far from silent. The swift scratches of the pencil and frantic scrubbing of the eraser were constant, his occasional hum or grunt the only living noise in the room. Aurora was silent; Ban was asleep.

When he finally leaned back against the pillows, his portrait complete, Suzaku looked dazed, as if he was unsure what he had just done. Blankly, he looked around the room; in his fervor, he'd all but forgotten where he was. With his quick, lost glances, he met Aurora's eyes. She was looking at him steadily without turning her head from her novel, a small smile on her mouth.

"It's good."

She glanced down at the rough portrait. Aurora hadn't been placating him. It was rough, certainly, and lacked the precision that came from training. But it did have an elemental appeal, an unstudied truth that spoke to a natural eye and hidden skill. The unrefined drawing of Bannock displayed not only the dog's relaxation, but somehow the gentility in his face, as well.

"You have talent," she murmured. He blinked at her a few times like she'd spoken in Latin. Finally, Suzaku cleared his throat, and smiled a little sheepishly, flexing his hand, his tendons unused to such focused strain.

"Thank you." Before she could say anything else, he flipped the page, and started anew.

For such a disciplined man, it was odd to see his rhythm so utterly jagged. At times, he sketched on the page with little more than ten strokes before flipping it to the next. Then he spent an hour and a half on a portrait of Cecile's face. Some of the pictures were heavy, dense with shading, while others were all but invisible with the delicate pencil strokes. The one thing that united them all, with the exception of the picture of Bannock, was that every drawing was done from memory.

Aurora saw them all flip by. Lelouch, Shirley, Gino, Lloyd, the Lancelot, Arthur.

Euphemia.

Suzaku sketched out countless pictures of Euphemia. Some laughing, some smiling, one scowling, another shifted into a pretty pout. There was one that Aurora recognized from his knighting, and another that looked like she was falling out of the sky. One picture that stayed with Aurora focused on Euphie's hands and face, her chin propped on her palms as she gazed dreamily away. He captured her delicate wrists, shining hair, and depthless eyes with the sight of a man who had not only seen, but loved.

He didn't look up when Aurora left to prepare lunch, nor when she returned. She could hardly complain, however, since he all but inhaled the egg burrito with a distracted air before diving back into the notebook. He was over half way through the book when he was forced to stop, the sun setting and his hands cramping viciously.

Since she'd managed to see most of them, Aurora didn't ask if she could look through the drawings. She doubted Suzaku would acquiesce, anyway. Instead, she moved the notebook and tools over by her neglected book and sat on the bed, carefully massaging his right hand and wrist as she met his gaze with a small smile. He was breathing a little hard for someone who had sat all day, and his eyes were a little wild. But Aurora didn't regret her decision. She couldn't say why, but something told her that her idea to give Suzaku that sketch pad could quite possibly be one of the best things she'd ever done for him.

"Still bored?" He shook his head, a little dumbfounded.

"No, I… No." His hand still hurt a little, but the careless ease she loosened the muscles and tendons in his hand with made Suzaku feel too vulnerable. Bobbing his head in thanks, he retrieved his hand. She looked at him for a moment, her eyes entirely too piercing and sharp for his comfort. Then Aurora stood, shoving back the sleeves of her shirt before crouching to rub Ban. He awakened and rolled over, one paw in the air in invitation as she stroked his ribcage and spoke gentle nonsense. Suzaku was brought to attention when she said his full name.

"His name is Bannock?" he asked when she straightened, the dog lunging to his feet as she settled again on the chair, his head draped in her lap. As she rubbed his ears, the dog leaning into the contact with a grunt, she glanced over at him and smiled.

"Yeah. Why?" Suzaku shrugged, a little embarrassed to be caught listening.

"I didn't even really want him when he first showed up. We'd just gotten the clinic off the ground, and this abominably thin dog, little better than a pup, just appeared at our door one day. He was riddled with worms, and battling an infection that almost turned him inside out. I wasn't qualified to care for him, and I didn't want to weigh Kendra down with another difficult project. But he suckered me in. I refused to name him at first, because I didn't want to get attached in the likely case that he died." Aurora stroked his neck, rocking slightly as she remembered with the fondness of a mother.

"But one day, Chandler, Kendra, and I were sitting around, having lunch, when he snuck in like a ghost and nipped Chandler's bread before any of us noticed. He was half way through the wedge before Chandler realized that his beloved scone had been stolen. At first, he was mad. He yelled, 'Hey!' in this hilariously indignant tone, and the dog lifted his head, popping up these gigantic bat ears in the most ridiculous expression ever, still chewing on the bread. I'd seen that look a few times, but it was the first time he showed it to anyone else. The two boys just stared at each other a few minutes before we all collapsed into howling laughter. Kendra suggested that we name him Scone. Chandler didn't think it was dignified enough, and instead said we should name him Bannock, which is pretty much the same thing. When I said it, he hopped up and laid his head in my lap. In a way, he chose his own name." She planted a smacking kiss on the dog's head before rising.

"I'm going to get dinner ready," she said with a wave before leaving the room. Ban watched her walk away before turning and leaping onto Suzaku's bed without invitation. With the dog settled against his leg, he rubbed the gray, muscled flank.

"Had her wrapped around your finger from the first moment, didn't you?" he murmured to the dog. Ban lifted his head and blinked almost knowingly at Suzaku. Panting for a minute, revealing a doggy grin with enormous, pointed teeth, he dropped his head back down and slipping seamlessly into a snooze.

_Lucky dog_, Suzaku thought.

* * *

_Initially, this was supposed to go on for another section, but I decided against it. The tone shifts, and I rather like how this one ended._

_A word about Suzaku and art. My life is dominated by several disparate, but very important diversions that pretty much define who I am and keep me from being locked in a padded cell. I find such things to be very important for all of us, and Suzaku's lack struck me._

_So, I gave him a talent (that Aurora didn't already lay claim to) that wasn't terribly public that could give him some measure of relief. He's no Rembrandt, but he's good. Good enough to take some of the pressure off his skull. _

_We haven't seen the last of this, and we're ramping up to an expansion of the Ireland universe. With the next chapter will be a little improvement in Suzaku's mobility, so his world will literally be opening beyond his bedroom window._

_Can I get a shout-out for grumpy Aurora? That shit made my day._

_Thank you all for being so patient. I'm trying to reach for the drive that I see with so many webcomic artists. And they have to draw stuff, too. Man up, Tango._

_I swear I know where I'm going. I just hope I know what I'm doing._

_Hope you like it!_

_Love, Tango_


	12. Inspection

Suzaku stared down at the sketch pad.

Nothing happened.

With a rising sense of frustration, he hovered the pencil over the page, but the lightning rush of knowledge, the eager release that had erupted through him yesterday, was absent.

He was glaring at the paper like it was a mortal enemy when Aurora entered the room with a plate of toast smothered with strawberry jam and butter. Not her favorite kind of jelly, but it was a safe bet, since she'd forgotten to ask what Suzaku preferred. She'd opened her mouth to lightly say as much when she caught sight of the black, desperate expression on his face. Setting down the plate without speaking, she approached, surprised to see the notebook back in his lap. He must have grabbed it while she'd been downstairs. Considering the distance of the armoire from the bed, she frowned a little.

Approaching slowly, she carefully touched a hand to his shoulder. He jerked, and turned his eyes to hers. His frantic, angry expression made Aurora's stomach drop.

"Suzaku," she said slowly, calmly. "What's wrong?"

"I can't draw," he ground out. Breathing a slow, subtle sigh of relief, she removed the pad and pencil from his lap, lifting her brow at the resistance in his hand, before sitting.

"There's nothing wrong with that." He glared at her in disbelief. "There isn't. You've suddenly discovered this well of creativity, and that's fantastic. But creativity is driven by inspiration, and inspiration is a tricky, fickle thing. It's best not to force it when it's not there. It's highly unlikely you'll be satisfied with anything you produce, anyway. Think of it like a muscle," she said, driving the conversation in a more practical direction at the dissension on his face. One could forget how stubborn Suzaku was until you were faced with that bull-headed expression so often hidden.

"You have to build that muscle through regular, smart training. You can't suddenly work it within an inch of its life one day and expect it to be strong and ready the next. It's something you have to grow, Suzaku, as much as you've grown your strength. Give it time. Besides," she said brightly, leaning back, "you've got other things to worry about today." He raised a brow, placated but still anxious.

"Such as?"

"Kendra's coming to see you today," Aurora said with a grin. The name sounded familiar, but he wasn't sure as to the significance of it.

"Who's that?" Aurora blinked at him before shifting.

"Right, sorry. I forgot you were unconscious. She's the doctor who operated on you. She's coming over to get an update on your arm and shoulder, and assess how soon we can get you up and moving again." For a moment, Suzaku was at war. Any news about mobility was to be celebrated. But doctors made him nervous. A side effect of his time spent dealing with Asplund's antics or just the fact that doctors all too often sought to sideline him when he was eager, even desperate, to fight, he wasn't sure. But it made his stomach clench.

"First things first," she said, interrupting Suzaku's nerves. Standing, she ripped back the sheet with a cheerful crack. He was clothed, but Suzaku still flinched a little. "We need to get you cleaned up." She held out her hands invitingly, and he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. Yesterday morning, it had taken him ten minutes to get off the bed and stay on his feet. With Aurora watching and the threat of a doctor, he didn't give himself time to wince. Instead, he took to his feet in a single stretch of muscle. He couldn't have told her how excruciating it was, or how discouraged he was by the pain.

Without a word, she steadied him before ducking under his right arm, taking a shocking amount of his weight on her shoulders and hip. One hand gripping his while the other was carefully wrapped around his waist, she helped him limp out of the room and down the hallway, Ban a worried shadow behind them. He'd made this trek before, but had been too blitzed by pain and withdrawal to really remember. For the first time, his mind was honed to a point - almost painfully so - and Suzaku was determined to pay attention.

The walls were paneled with old, dark oak, the floor hardy pine that was occasionally scratched but glowed like gold. He caught sight of paintings that he had a feeling were by local artists on the wall, and framed cross-stitches he imagined done by some dainty grandmother in half-moon glasses.

It should have been old-fashioned, but the bathroom had an understated luxury to it. The pedestal sink was white marble veined with gray, the walls a delicate green. The claw-footed tub was gigantic, and Suzaku couldn't help but wonder that the floor didn't creak under the weight of it. Bordered with scrolled silver, the mirror above the sink caught the morning light that shone through the small window with a dazzling burst. It was on a different side of the house than his, and opened out onto a small garden, an ancient-looking wall, and the saturated hills beyond.

Aurora left his side briefly, easing him down on the toilet before stepping over to yank around the emerald shower curtain and crank the copper dials that matched the ones on the sink. Steam was already rising before she turned to help him out of the sling, easing off his shirt and unwinding the bandages to eye his shoulder and arm with a discerning gaze. She nodded from where she crouched at his feet, looking satisfied and slightly relieved.

"You're looking good. Do you need help, or-"

"I'll be fine," he assured her quickly. Suzaku wasn't too certain about that, but he was conscious enough to be embarrassed by any aid she would offer him from this point forward. Aurora looked at him for a moment, and he had a feeling that she knew exactly what he was thinking.

But she said nothing. Instead, she merely took to her feet with a nod.

"Alright. If you need anything, just give a holler." With that, she disappeared through the rapidly accumulating steam, almost like a ghost. When he heard the quiet click of the door, Suzaku eased out a windy sigh.

Good Lord. He thought he was better. He wanted to be better, with the desperation of the usually healthy. But the obscene hurt that scorched along his nerves was unlike that which he had ever faced. The hurt from the withdrawal had faded, at least a little. But his arm ached with the ferocity of the newly broken.

Standing unsteadily, he finished undressing, knowing better than to test his arm. He couldn't quite remember what exactly was wrong with his entire upper left body, but the sensation of pain did its work, and he kept his arm slack and wrapped around his torso. Easing into the bathtub – both to accustom himself to the heat of the spray, and because his balance was not at its best – he glanced down when he felt something with his foot. Someone had attached small, scrubby plastic seahorses the color of sapphires to the bottom of the tub to minimize the risk of the slipping. For some reason, the silly little pieces of plastic made him smile as the water slicked his hair to his skull, and Suzaku finally relaxed, a little.

He supposed it was the way of injuries; you never realized how much you depended on a part of your body until it was damaged beyond use. He could only thank whatever gods or fates still watched him from the corners of their eyes that his left side, and not his right, had been injured. As he scrubbed the least feminine shampoo he could find – ocean breeze – into his hair one-handed, Suzaku searched his memory more thoroughly to see if he remembered this Kendra at all. But it was no good.

She must have entered the story during the black haze in his mind that had engulfed several days. Aurora spoke of her and some guy named Chandler with the fondness of close friends, or close family. He was just now edging into a sort of trust in regards to Aurora; but Suzaku found it was too much to ask of himself that he trust someone he didn't even know just by extension of Aurora. He might have once, but those days were long past.

As muscles, knotted from tension and pain, slowly loosened and relaxed and his defenses lowered, Suzaku almost collapsed in the shower under a sudden wave of _need_. He'd give anything, _anything_, for one dose of heroin, one slide of the needle to take away the strain and constant ache for one peaceful night. As he trembled under the weight of it, Suzaku struggled to remember the moment when he'd shifted from needing it to survive his own memories to surviving himself. Even when he couldn't pinpoint the exact instant, it was still an ugly epiphany.

Surging up under the craving was anger. Anger so blistering hot, it burned away the desire for the drug and left nothing but its own writhing flames in its wake. He shuddered against the intense flood of it, almost foreign in his mind after months of trying to deaden the edges of emotions that cut him to ribbons. What he was angry at, Suzaku couldn't quite say. Aurora, heroin, the world, Lelouch.

Himself.

How pathetic, he thought of himself sourly as the rage slowly ebbed. Suzaku couldn't quite give himself a reason, but his own weakness made him disgusted. She'd been smart, he had to admit. Aurora had kept him distracted over the past couple of days, be it by stories or drawings or simple conversation that he hadn't indulged in since Euphie's death. Since the worry of him getting his hands on some heroin was non-existent considering their location and his condition, she'd been working to keep him from completely mentally imploding under the lack.

Why did she care?

The question rippled through his mind as he pressed his hand against the wall in a weak bid for support. Aurora was invested in his recovery; Suzaku didn't doubt that for a moment. But why? And why couldn't he bring himself to do the same?

That answer, at least, was easy. Because he didn't want to recover. He didn't want to survive. But that option had been removed from him by Lelouch three years ago, and now by his half-sister.

Weak, Suzaku slid down to sit in the bottom of the tub, the shampoo suds sliding down his spine as the water beat on his head and back. His long legs cramped against the edge of the tub, his stitches vaguely itching, Suzaku heaved a huge breath of hot, damp air before pressing his forehead to his knees. He'd gotten what he wanted, he supposed. He'd clung to the heroin in the hopes that it would numb all the wounds still gaping inside him. And he'd hoped, believed, that the drug, the addiction, would break him. Because broken pieces couldn't feel.

But as his arm furiously throbbed and his shoulder ached, he knew better.

* * *

Aurora had left the bathroom a picture of calm and ease.

As she nervously paced outside the bathroom door, Bannock the only one witness to the complete destruction of her cool façade, Aurora gnawed on her thumb nail. She was worried.

Acute ears tuned to the squeak of skin against ceramic or the thud of falling bones, she knew she was too far away if something happened to Suzaku to prevent injury. She could only pray that if he was injured, she was close enough to minimize the damage. Besides, Kendra was coming today.

What should have been an easy chuckle of relief tittered out in a strangled, awkward laugh. Cursing under her breath in brief, repeated huffs that were ground out in time with her quick, cutting strides, Aurora swung to a stop when Ban cocked his head to the side. He'd heard her say far worse obscenities before.

"What?" she asked in a savage murmur. The dog just blinked. "I know, I know," she groaned. Aurora paced a few more times across the width of the hall before stopping again. "But what if something happens? His stitches could reopen, or he could mess up the plating in his arm if he slips, or…" The sky could collapse on them like a big blue bowl or Ban could start speaking in a human voice. There was no point sending herself twitching into an aneurysm of worry over possibilities. It was probably a little too soon for this sort of independent venture, but Aurora couldn't warrant stripping Suzaku of what little pride he was accumulating just to satisfy her own concern.

Speaking of which…

Aurora wrung her hands as her mind swerved in a direction she had struggled to bar it from. She'd seen the man naked, after all, but this time… The impartial position of being a healer was fading despite her best intentions. The platonic edge that she'd been clinging to since clapping eyes on him was quickly crumbling from under her fingertips. Suzaku was still injured and she was still utterly devoted to caring for him, but his complete vulnerability was starting to slip away, his immense, ingrained strength manifesting again. She was seriously, completely deranged if she found that sexy.

So she was seriously, completely deranged, Aurora admitted to herself as she took to pacing again. If she was being completely honest, another reason she had let Suzaku clean up by himself was because her heart had thudded like a jack hammer when she'd taken off his shirt. Again, not the first time she'd seen the strong, carved planes of his chest, but Aurora's throat had dried up so quickly, she might as well have been mute. She'd been fine this morning, then, _wham!_ Her blood was doing the tango, and she'd yearned in a way she hadn't allowed herself to in a long time, just because she'd helped him slip out of his shirt. Her fingers had itched to touch, to soothe. Suzaku's normally bronzed skin had paled a little from his natural tint, no doubt due to his lack of exposure to sun in the past couple of years. Old scars stood out like white lines against his skin, and his current injuries lent the air of a battered warrior. Not too far off base, really.

"No, no, no," she chanted under her breath, desperate to dissolve the images of his physical beauty that were sinuously sliding through her brain before her muscles started to quiver. "So off limits, he might as well be off planet," she reminded herself with a harsh shake of her head as she growled to herself. Aurora's breath quickened; from anxiety or attraction, she wasn't sure. As the water squeaked off, she lifted her head like a deer scenting fire. Despite her urge to leap forward, her muscles clenched still, and she waited.

And waited.

Finally, she lightly knocked, calling his name softly as she slowly opened the door. He was standing in front of the mirror, examining his stitches, wearing nothing but a frown and a towel clinging to his lean hips. _Behave!_ The command roared through her head as she locked her wants and needs so far down, dynamite couldn't get them loose. It had been an important skill during her career, but one that always made her a little sad.

Aurora leaned down, snagging the change of clothes, bandages and the extra sling she'd retrieved when he'd first stepped into the shower. That task hadn't taken nearly as long as she would have liked. Setting the pile on the toilet lid, she backed out of the room, her hand on the door knob. She felt her eyes glide over the shiny scars of burns along his back, especially around his right shoulder blade and his mid-spine. Biting the inside of her cheek, Aurora heaved a deep breath before speaking.

"Leave off on the shirt. I'd like another look at your stitches, and then we need to get you bandaged up again." He nodded his assent, and she closed the door. Aurora didn't last thirty seconds before she began pacing again.

* * *

Suzaku was venomously impatient with himself and clothing in general by the time he'd managed to secure the loose pants around his waist. If he'd thought moving and showering one-handed was hard enough, it was nothing compared to getting dressed. Already exhausted and a long day of inspection still ahead, he lowered himself slowly down onto the toilet, depositing the pile onto a charming cabinet made of cherry wood and carved with leaves and branches. Carefully, he rubbed his right hand over his left forearm, not daring to go any higher.

His gaze into the mirror had been the first time Suzaku had really seen his injuries. Needless to say, it wasn't pretty. It could have been fatal – it should have been, if not for the women who had saved his life. Suzaku tried to be angry about it, about their meddling in his much sought-after release, but he was just too tired. And really, it was hard to blame them.

From what little he'd learned about Aurora, it wasn't much of a stretch to realize that she cared. She tried not to, and her leading edge had been dulled by her training and experiences. But that need to reach out, to offer help where it was needed, was deeply rooted in her personality. Suzaku thought that, maybe, he'd once been the same. Paired with her doctor friend who, like all good doctors, probably took the oath she swore to protect life seriously and his Geass command, not even a solid attempt by Britannian soldiers could kill him.

He would have given anything once to be so indestructible, to have the ability to survive, to do what needed to be done. If he couldn't die in service, then he could at least fight forever in it. But now…

Now, he thought as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, he was too tired to fight and too broken to care. Oaths and orders be damned. Already wallowing and in too much pain to drag himself out, Suzaku didn't look up at the knock, or the careful opening of the bathroom door.

"Hey," she said softly, crouching in front of him, her fingers resting on one of his knees. "You alright?" He just lifted his head and looked at her archly. Really, she was too smart for such a question. Looking a little abashed, she just cleared her throat. "Right. Stupid of me. Sorry. Anyway, let's have a look at your seams." He straightened, feeling the blood rush to his skin under her appraising gaze. Since that hadn't really happened before, Suzaku felt a frown tug at his face at the gentle touch of her fingertips. Aurora took it as a sign of pain.

"I know, just bear with me a little bit longer. Your stitches are looking pretty good – no sign of infection or anything like that. I'm impressed." Suzaku watched her carefully as she assessed his condition, wondering why he now felt vaguely embarrassed by her pointed attention when he couldn't really recall feeling that way before. Her long, amber hair was tamed back into a high ponytail, the ends slightly curling from the humidity. She wore a bright blue t-shirt and black jeans – strong pops of color on casual clothing. That did seem to be her preference.

Leaving off the bandages, Aurora helped him into his shirt, buttoning it up for him much the way a mother would for her son. The mild sense of maternal care made him blink, causing Suzaku to remain still as she strapped the sling on. Aurora smoothed the flaps and straps a few extra times. Suzaku couldn't quite guess why.

Standing, Aurora helped him to his feet, smoothing a curl of damp hair over his ear. He stared at her in mild shock. What in world was she doing? She glanced over from the side of his head, their eyes colliding. For a moment, her silvered blue eyes were blank and calm; suddenly realization hit, and color bloomed on her sharp cheekbones. Aurora took a hasty step back, clearing her throat awkwardly as she rubbed her fingers together as if to negate the feeling of his hair.

Eventually, they made their way back to the bedroom, and Aurora kept a wary distance from Suzaku, and he from her. Not physically, as that was impossible, but mentally. Whatever camaraderie that had developed between the two of them over the last couple of days was buried under a layer of tension. Neither of them knew the exact origins of the discord in the other, but was somewhat guilt-ridden over the feeling in themselves.

She couldn't sit down. Aurora didn't quite know what kept her from sitting in her usual rocking chair, but her nerves jumped like sparks under her skin. Instead, her fingers tangled together like wires. Suzaku, who sat propped up by pillows and his hand quiet, loosely fisted on his thigh, kept his eyes trained outside, gazing at the land lit by the pearly sun. No words were exchanged; both of them knew that there was nothing worthwhile to say.

Ban sat on his rug, too disturbed by the strain in the air to relax. He looked worried, as if he was having a difficult time understanding why two people who had spent so much time with each other over the last week were suddenly distanced by awkward silence. His ears suddenly popped up at a faint sound, and when he lunged to his feet, Aurora spun to follow, knowing without having to question that he'd heard Kendra's arrival.

She waved a hand to Suzaku, hoping that he understood the gesture as a promise to return, but couldn't be sure. After all, she was hardly in control of herself enough to be certain she would understand the signal if the situation was reversed. Lightly loping down the stairs, Aurora felt the smile bloom across her face before she even reached the door. Yanking it open, it broke into a grin as she caught sight of Kendra, her dense black waves gathered at the base of her neck by a light blue barrette that shone against her hair like a star. A few strands fell into her eyes, which she promptly blew back with a crooked grin.

"You look absolutely gorgeous," Aurora said with an enormous grin, hugging her friend close before taking the heavy bag that was practically tipping Kendra to one side.

"You're just saying that because you haven't seen me in a week," Kendra said, fighting against a grin, but losing. She wouldn't say it, but the relief that Aurora was still safe made the doctor's knees a little weak. As Aurora slung her arm over her shoulders and led her into the cottage, Kendra was assailed by memories of her previous stays in Ireland. The first, of course, being her honeymoon. A brutally fantastic afternoon spent on the couch, and the antique rug, with Chandler made her smile a little smugly as they passed the living room.

As Aurora gave her a brief overview of Suzaku's condition over the past seven days, Kendra listened with half an ear. She carefully filed away the information, but was busier absorbing the state of the cottage and Aurora. Kendra had known that her friend could be trusted to take care of Chandler's family home. She'd also known that Aurora could be trusted to take care of Suzaku. What had kept the doctor awake at nights since the pair's departure was how Suzaku would react to being cared for by a stranger.

Following Aurora into the guest room that she'd hardly ever looked at in her previous visits, Kendra couldn't help it as her brows lifted at the sight of a stiff-backed Suzaku staring at her with clear, if a little worried, eyes the color of emeralds. Normally, her bed-side manner was smooth as silk. But the frank, spooked expression in his eyes had Kendra clearing her throat, dragging in a brief breath to smooth her hesitation.

"Hello, Suzaku," she began with a smile, stepping forward with her right hand extended. "My name is Dr. Kendra Andrews, and I'm here to see how you're doing." His eyes went to her hand, then to her face, before he cautiously extended his own hand. As their hands clasped, his fingers a little cold for her taste, Kendra had no difficulty realizing that it was politeness more than anything else that pressed Suzaku to return her greeting.

Straightening and setting her leather satchel down next to the bed, she glanced up, practically scenting the anxiety swirling through the room like smoke. She looked at Suzaku, noticing the way his gaze slid from her over to Aurora, where it lingered with a sort of vague worry and confusion. She looked at Aurora, who gazed back as Suzaku with the most clouded expression Kendra had ever seen on her friend's face. She looked back at Suzaku. Back at Aurora. Spinning on her heel, she roughly began to shove Aurora out of the room.

"Out," she commanded.

"But, I-"

"No, out," Kendra repeated, rudely shutting the door in Aurora's face. She knew that her friend's strength was nothing to trifle with, and waited a moment to see if Aurora would try to shove her way back into the room. But eventually, Kendra was able to make out slow, reluctant steps on the stairway. Glancing down to her right, she caught sight of Bannock. He stood next to her by the door, looking up at Kendra with an expression of bemusement and concern.

"Alright. I don't want you in here, anyway. Go keep her company." Opening the door maybe ten inches, he slipped through like an eel, trotting after his mistress. Heaving a sigh, Kendra turned back towards Suzaku, who had remained silent during the entire exchange, and flashed a bright smile.

"Sorry about that. Let's try that again. I'm Kendra, and I'm going to be taking a few x-rays and conducting a short exam. Nothing too extravagant, but I'd like to get a good read on how you're doing. Have to see if my surgery was a success," she added with a slightly joking tone. When it didn't glean even the slightest response from Suzaku, Kendra struggled against a frown as she hefted the dense duffel Aurora had carried for her upstairs.

By this time, Suzaku accepted the fact that he didn't remember the woman Aurora spoke of with such trust and friendship. The woman who was equally responsible for saving his life. It didn't mean he felt any more comfortable about this whole situation. His first thought at seeing her next to Aurora was that this Kendra Andrews was petite. But the reality was she was of average height, especially more obvious when she wasn't standing next to the Amazonian tall Aurora. Her thick black hair reminded Suzaku of an Eastern European princess's; thick and waving and shameless. As she peered at him through small round glasses, he was able to make out through the flashing of light over the lenses that her eyes were the tawny gold of a lion's coat.

Her expression was kind, and business-like. Dr. Andrews pulled out a slim silver laptop from her satchel, setting it on the often ignored desk that was tucked into the corner of the room. She worked on it for about five minutes before turning away, dragging over the chair by the desk to sit in front of Suzaku, the soft light pouring into the window haloing her face with a sort of holy light.

"So, Suzaku. How are you doing?" He cleared his throat quietly against the knot of anxiety that had started to clog it. She spoke in a gentle, kind tone, but something about her assessing eyes reminded him of things long since left in the past.

"Fine." Like Aurora, she lifted her brows but kept her silence at his ambiguous, false statement. When he didn't continue, Kendra shifted forward, propping her elbows on her knees as she laced her fingers together.

"If you had to rate your constant state of pain on a scale of one to ten, where would you be, about? Six? Seven?" She could tell by the puzzled look in his eyes that he'd never attempted to quantify his pain in such a way before.

"I… I suppose so."

"OK. How are you sleeping?" The jerk of his good shoulder and his averted eyes told her that his quality of sleep was poor at best. She'd wait to ask if it was mental or physical disruptions. Or both.

"Any trouble keeping food down?" The shake of his head was the first unambiguous answer he'd given her, but the distant expression in Suzaku's eyes told Kendra that he had little concern for his food intake. Aurora had probably been pretty soft with coaxing him to eat. That had been fine with his condition for the last week, but healing needed calories, and if he wasn't barfing it up, then he needed to start packing it in. He was too thin, anyway. She estimated him to be a good fifteen pounds underweight considering his build and height.

Mentally tallying all this to later talk to Aurora about, Kendra asked Suzaku a few more basic questions before helping him shift to face her, his feet on the floor and the light illuminating his face. Taking note of his expression and sensitivity, Kendra undid the sling and drew his left forearm out, turning his palm up as she held his hand. She carefully noted his reflex to her running a finger lightly along his palm.

"Push against my fingers," she commanded lightly, pressing down on his fingertips with soft weight, pleased when she felt him return the pressure. Not much strength behind it, but he still had control over his far extremities. Gently checking the flexibility of his wrist – good flexion for someone who hadn't used the joint in a week – she very carefully helped him straighten his arm. The wince in his eyes was minor, and something Kendra expected. But he could fully straighten his left arm and return it to a neutral bend, with help. So far, he was looking good, and very lucky. When she faintly heard music through the floor, she breathed a sigh of relief, and returned her attention to Suzaku.

Kendra had performed her tests on Suzaku witha quiet expression and intent eyes. He didn't have to know her to see the weighing and considering going on in her head. Personal knowledge wasn't required to see that she had a busy mind, just like her friend. She stood to unbutton his shirt – Suzaku had been dressed and undressed, bound and unbound, more times today than in the past few days combined. Her probes of his stitches was more surgical than Aurora's gentle touches; harder, but more precise. Suzaku instinctively ground his jaw over a yelp when she touched a tender spot along his upper arm, but he could tell by the calculation in the doctor's eyes that she'd seen his reaction.

Nodding slightly to herself, she withdrew a stethoscope from her satchel, lightly directing him breathe deep four times, moving the tool each time. The exercise had always seemed so easy before; now, Suzaku's ribs screamed at the stretch, and he fought not to choke on the pain. Putting the stethoscope away, she made a careful study of the bruising along his ribcage and spine. Kendra's manner seemed oddly cool and precise compared to the warmth she'd displayed when she had first greeted him. He wondered why, but was privately relieved. Small talk was not a strength of his.

She helped him stand briefly, seeing more than Suzaku could possibly begin to guess. He supposed it didn't make him feel any better that he had no idea what she was looking for. Helping him sit again, she draped his shirt over his shoulders – to ward away any chill, Suzaku supposed – before turning away to dig through the heavy bag Aurora carried.

From it, she withdrew a large, flat gray mat and a square looking device that vaguely reminded Suzaku of an old camera.

It was about the size of a toaster, and bright yellow. A black handle extended around the back, and the top and bottom were riddled with buttons and knobs that might as well have been labeled in a foreign language. Kendra fiddled with the settings with a knowledgeable touch, and she held it with the care and excitement one displayed towards a very anticipated gift.

She draped the gray mat – which he realized was a lead apron – over his right shoulder and lap, instructing him to hold it in place. Aiming the device at his collarbone, she pressed a black button on the top of the box.

She was taking x-rays.

All of Suzaku's past experiences with x-rays had involved cavernous rooms, cool, flat tables, and being caught in the crosshairs of a gigantic machine. But as Kendra studiously took radiographs of his shoulder and upper arm with her little machine, Suzaku felt little beyond mild discomfort and curiosity.

Satisfied with his arm and shoulder, Kendra shifted the lead apron down to his lap, x-raying his ribcage. Once she finished with the front, she skirted the bed and crawled onto the mattress, taking images of his spinal column and ribs from the rear. He caught a vague sense of childish excitement from the doctor as she hopped off the bed and set the machine on the desk next to her laptop. Connecting them with a small cable, she clicked around a few minutes before turning back to him.

"While that's downloading, off with the trousers, Suzaku." She spoke brightly and crisply, removing the lead apron and folding it before helping him stand again. He hardly had time to feel vulnerable and embarrassed before he was wearing nothing but his underwear and Kendra was crouched down, inspecting his legs with a close, impersonal gaze. Helping him sit again but not offering any clothing, she ran through a quick inspection of his joints before turning her attention to the stitches on his calf. After gently prodding, she nodded.

Suzaku had hoped with the number of times that he'd stood up and down, been dressed and undressed, that he'd be getting better at it. But it proved just as much of a challenge as it had this morning. The only difference was the absence of the low burn that sizzled in his blood at Aurora's presence. Suzaku told himself that he should be relieved.

Finally put completely back together, Kendra left him lying on the bed, propped up by pillows, to return to the desk and laptop. Suzaku was appalled at how exhausted he was.

She dragged the chair back over to the desk, and spent a good fifteen minutes hunched in front of the laptop, clicking occasionally and flicking through images. Kendra had her chin cupped in her hand, her cat eyes slightly narrowed. Sometimes, she hummed or grunted, but since Suzaku couldn't see the screen or anything except her profile, he didn't try to decipher it. He'd almost started to doze when she stood and cleared her throat. Disconnecting the cable from the laptop, she dragged the chair back over next to the bed, the open laptop balanced on one of her hands.

"Alright, Suzaku." Sitting, she smiled at him. "Good news; you're going getting better." When he just quirked his brows a little, she laughed. "I'm guessing you'd like to know what is actually wrong with you. I imagine it's pretty tough to be in a lot of pain and not know why." It was, actually. It was terrifying in a very primal part of his mind, but Suzaku hadn't addressed it. The timing hadn't been ideal, and he was afraid. The answer to that question could destroy him more effectively any message his brain interpreted as pain.

Settling in the chair more fully, Kendra took a deep breath. "Let's start from the top and work our way down." With a few clicks of the mouse pad, two images came up side by side. Suzaku's knowledge of anatomy was weak at best, and looking at x-rays was not a favorite memory. But even with his rudimentary knowledge, he could see the outline of his collarbone and the flat plane of what he assumed was his shoulder blade. Scooting the chair closer, Kendra set the laptop on the mattress, leaving her hands free to gesture and point.

"You were shot from behind, correct?" At his nod, she continued. "Thought so. The bullet grazed the top of your left scapula, cracking it here." She pointed to a small black fissure in the sheet of white on the image on the left with the tip of her little finger. "Then it caught the bottom of your left clavicle. It had to have been a pretty high caliber bullet, because the shock reverberated up the bone, breaking it all the way through." The break was obvious, even to a layman.

"I put in a metal plate and screws along the bottom of the bone for support. Clavicles can be hard to heal, and because of the bone destruction, I wanted to give you as much support as possible. Considering the amount of damage, I'm not inclined to remove the plates at this point. That might change given how you heal, but I'm looking to avoid putting you through any more surgery." That hadn't been the approach to his health historically; Suzaku found that he appreciated it.

"Plating the bottom will give a guide for healing the rougher side of the break. The top of the clavicle and your scapula should heal pretty well on their own, and have already started to. This bad boy, however, is another story entirely." Closing the two x-rays, she pulled up three images, one dominating the left side of the screen while two shared the right. Suzaku couldn't tell what bone he was looking at, it was such a gnarled muddle.

"This is what's left of your humerus." Zooming into the image on the left, Kendra pointed at a gurgle of black and gray in the middle of the shaft of bone interrupted by two white rods that were too straight to be natural. "It looks like a train wreck, but you're luckier than you think. Bad news first. The bullet shattered your bone. Mid-arm, mid-shaft. Hell of a shot."

"Think he got a commendation for it?" Suzaku murmured darkly. He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud until Kendra laughed.

"He should have. Took me twenty minutes just to fish out the bone shards. Two plates on this mess. Since I couldn't place the ends directly together, considering they'd disintegrated, I wanted to give the bones as much of a guide for healing as possible. This one will obviously take the longest to get back to regular shape. And it's going to hurt like a mother for months."

"Is that the technical medical term?" Suzaku said wryly. Like any doctor, she peppered him with terms that he had only the vaguest idea of what they were. But her speech was largely dominated with enough regular vocabulary that Suzaku was not only able to keep up with her diagnosis and explanation, but also allowed him to start to relax.

"Close enough." Her lips tipped up into a smile. "Now, the good parts." She zoomed back out, bringing up the paired radiographs. "These are front and back images of your arm. What this shows us is that the majority of your bicep and tricep muscles remain undamaged. This will help with mobility later on. Perhaps even more important is that the major artery and nerve in your arm were able to survive without severe injury. How that happened, I'm not quite sure. Your brachial artery was slightly nicked, but I was able to repair that during surgery. Their survival not only ensured yours, but are also the reason you can move your fingers."

"What this means," she said with a happy sigh as she leaned back, "is that, however long it may take, you should get back to normal eventually. If that nerve had been damaged or, God forbid, severed, that would be a whole other story. And while repairing that bone will be no cake walk, you should be able to use your arm fully in a few months." Suzaku paled.

"Did you think you were going to be tossing balls and swinging from the monkey bars in a couple of weeks?" Kendra chided gently. "I've done what I can for your bones. What they need now is time, and plenty of rest. Just like you. However," she said, leaning forward again and returning her attention to the laptop as she closed the humerus x-rays and opened others, "that only explains why your arm hurts. This is the rest of you," she finished, spinning the laptop so the screen faced him. On it were four images of what he could only guess was his ribcage.

"Aurora told me that you fell through several floors of an old building. Do you remember that?" Vaguely, Suzaku recalled the slapping sensation of pain through the whirling black of unconsciousness. The final smack against the water had knocked him fully unconscious. Realizing she was still looking at him, he nodded.

"That trauma combined with Aurora's CPR should have collapsed your ribcage. Again, you're a lucky son of a gun, because, while they're hammered to hell, your ribs are still basically intact." While she showed him the fracturing along his ribs and sternum, Suzaku eventually had to admit to himself that he couldn't really see any of what she was talking about. It must be part of the super doctor vision to see things in x-rays that mere mortals couldn't. But her explanation did answer some lingering questions he had, especially why it was so difficult for him to move.

"You're going to have to stay in the sling for another month. Considering how you heal up, we might be able to move you into a functional brace for your upper arm by then. This is, of course, entirely dependent on your rate of healing, which is good from what I've been able to see. I'll be removing most of your stitches next week. I think the only ones I'm still waiting on are the ones on your arm. But you could be stitch-free in a week or two. So," she said, shifting her tone as she removed the laptop and set it on the floor, lacing her fingers together as she leaned back in the chair, "why don't you tell me why you're not sleeping well."

Suzaku swallowed, helpless against the instinct to remain silent about his pain. If for no other reason than to defend himself against a weakness he had yet to overcome, and most likely never would.

"Is it the pain or dreams?" she asked simply, waiting for him to struggle his way past his silence.

"It's… it's both," he finally managed. Kendra simply tilted her head.

"Can you tell me about it?" He looked up, gazing at the doctor through the strands of hair that fell into his eyes. There was no pity, and no condemnation in her gaze. Much like Aurora, she looked at him with understanding, and an empathy that didn't smother. But unlike her friend's open, natural demeanor, Kendra's was much more professional and completely free from judgment. Both, he realized, offered comfort and encouraged trust.

"Everything hurts." He chuckled a little darkly. "Obviously. Sometimes it's hard to settle down. I still cramp up pretty bad on occasion." Kendra nodded.

"That's usual. Starting tomorrow, I want you and Aurora to start working on some stretches. Nothing strenuous, and she gets to decide how far to push, not you, Soldier Boy," she warned sternly, a little tip to the corner of her mouth softening the statement but not the intent. "But that'll help with flexibility, healing, and should make it a little easier to get to sleep. But you're having trouble staying asleep, too." Somehow, she managed to make the last sentence both a statement and a question.

"Yes. The dreams are… well, they're difficult." Suzaku spoke quietly, the pain stealing the strength from his voice.

"Do you dream in color?" It seemed like an odd, random question, and had Suzaku's brow furrowing when he looked back at Kendra. Her eyes were clear, her face completely open.

"I… I guess so." She nodded.

"What are your dreams about?"

"I don't remember them very often." Didn't want to remember them, really.

"But the ones you do remember. Staple dreams, like being late for a test or falling? Or maybe you're on a quest, a journey to gain something. Or do you dream about the past?" She'd known. Somehow, she'd known what he dreamt about, what sent him hurtling awake in the dead of night, chased to consciousness by his own memories and leaving him shaking in the inescapable aftermath. It wasn't apparent, but something in Kendra's eyes told Suzaku that she'd known before she'd asked the question what his dreams were about, and the extent of their damaging effects on him. Suzaku closed his eyes.

"The past. Always the past. That's why…"

"That's why you started using heroin." At her calm statement, Suzaku's eyes flew open and up to hers. As before, there was no judgment in her eyes. No worry or sorrow, no pity or anger. And, thank God, no disappointment. She merely looked at him, her only focus the facts. He spoke before he realized he was forming the word.

"Yes," he whispered. Kendra merely tilted her head.

"How is that going? The withdrawal." Suzaku couldn't help it – he snorted.

"About as well as could be expected. Meaning not well at all. It's been… difficult."

"Of course. How has it been with Aurora?" Suzaku found himself considering before he spoke. What was there to say, really, about the time he'd spent with Aurora thus far?

"All right. She's been kind." He glanced over at Kendra's silence. He found her brows raised slightly. "What is it?"

"'Kind' is an interesting choice of words. I don't think I've ever heard, or used, that adjective in regards to Aurora Sterling." He couldn't help it – he had to ask.

"What would you use?"

"I believe the usuals are 'difficult,' 'secretive,' 'intelligent,' and 'eccentric.' Of course, not all of them are bad things, but not too many people would accuse her of being kind. Can you tell me what makes you think of her in that way?" Suzaku remembered the past few days – the blurry memories of her holding him while he trembled and shook, the way she'd smiled through tears when he'd told her of Euphemia and Lelouch, comforting him after a nightmare even when he hadn't wanted it. Her handing him a sketch pad, and a release and comfort he'd never known. Telling her of his life, and knowing that in her, his secrets were safe.

But all Suzaku said was, "She's been very patient and understanding." Kendra just nodded.

"That's good to hear. How are you handling your addiction?" Again, the no-nonsense question that flew in out of left field. Gottwald hadn't been this adept, or effective, during his interrogation of him over Clovis's death.

"I… I'm fine. It's under control." It was the lie Suzaku had told himself for the last six months, and it was becoming clear how wrong he'd been. And she didn't believe him. It was a tiny flicker in her eyes, but Suzaku could tell that she knew he was lying. But Kendra didn't call him on it. Instead, she just nodded again.

"How many times a day do you think about heroin? Not necessarily how much you want it, but just thinking about it in general?" All the time. It was a low-grade hum in his brain, surging up like it did in the shower before retreating again to just above neutral.

Suzaku shrugged.

"Not very often."

"Any major swings of emotion? Excessive anger over nothing, paralyzing depression without a trigger." The depression was always there, a sticky grip on his ankle just waiting to drag him down. And his little anger burst today wasn't the first he'd dealt with.

"Not really." She sighed through her nose.

"OK, Suzaku. Here's the deal." Her fingers were still laced, she was still leaning back in her chair, but Kendra's presence changed. Her eyes got a little hard, and very cool. "I'm not invested in you emotionally, not like Aurora is. I saved your life, but you're not the first, nor the last life that I've held in my hands and given back. It's a pretty big deal for Rora, but not for me." It had been a long time since Suzaku had faced such a stone-cold truth.

"My point? There is absolutely no reason to lie to me. You won't disappoint me, you won't hurt my feelings, and there's absolutely nothing for you to be ashamed of. The only thing you're doing is hurting yourself, because lying to me is preventing me from helping you. Now, given what I've just seen, it would not surprise me if you sought out your own pain or destruction. But not on my watch, pal. I made it my duty, my life, to save the lives of others. And watching you destroy yours is not something I, or Aurora, will tolerate. When you go back to Britannia, you can do whatever you damn well please. But here and now, you will get better. Now, do yourself a huge favor, and be honest. How are you doing?"

Suzaku swallowed against his dry throat. He couldn't remember the last time someone had spoken to him like that. He should be insulted; he should be furious. But in reality, he was confused. Maybe that was why when he opened his mouth, the words that spilled out were not the ones that he'd planned.

"I'm not doing well. At all."

And he told her.

He told Kendra about the urges, the anger, the pain, and the fear. He told her why he'd started – to forget. To forget the truth and the lies, the memories and the future. When tears started to trickle down his cheeks, she said nothing, silently offering him a box of tissues. He said nothing of Euphemia, and perhaps he didn't need to. What he confided in Kendra, he'd never told anyone. When the words suddenly stopped, like a well running dry, he felt hollow.

Kendra hadn't moved, but the hard light in her eyes had softened.

"Have you told Aurora any of this?" He shook his head.

"No. How could I?"

"I'm not demanding that you tell her, but I strongly suggest it." It took her a moment to understand his lifted brows. "I'm not going to tell her. Everything you tell me is kept in confidence. I'm sorry, I thought you knew that." That hadn't usually been his experience. Evaluations, both physical and mental, could be accessible to anyone who held a high enough rank in the Britannian military.

"I don't know," he said indecisively.

"Think on it. Otherwise, did anything strange happen during your withdrawal?"

"Well, I…" Kendra tilted her head, but said nothing. "After the worst of the physical part, I… I thought Aurora was Euphemia." Suzaku had to give it to Kendra – she controlled her face admirably.

"Can you clarify that?" she asked, instead of calling him a lunatic, which is what he still privately thought of that whole scenario.

"You know that I was Euphemia's Knight. When she died… I took it pretty hard." Massive understatement of the century, but Kendra just nodded. "So, when I woke up from dozing after the worst of it, I didn't see Aurora there. I saw Euphemia, standing next to the bed."

"But you know now."

"Of course I know now," he replied shortly. "I… Aurora tried to tell me, but it just wouldn't compute."

"So what did she do?"

"She walked me through my memories, pretty much my entire life. When I remembered her death, Euphemia just sort of disintegrated. And there stood Aurora."

"That must have been hard."

"It was obscene. It was like losing her all over again. I was furious. I was wrong, but I was still madder than hell, and completely heartbroken." Again. "But… I couldn't blame her. Aurora was trying to help me, and was honest in telling me that she wanted information. That she needed it."

"Did she tell you why?" Something, a very subtle change of inflection, warned Suzaku about Kendra's shift in tone. He glanced over, and worked at it for a second. She wasn't the impartial doctor now, not completely. It was almost as if she was on the defensive. But why?

"Yes. She told me about her past. So I told her mine. It seemed like a fair exchange." Some of the all but invisible tension bled from Kendra's shoulders.

"That's interesting that she told you. Aurora doesn't tell many people about the old days anymore." Suzaku kept his silence – he couldn't know how much Kendra knew, and he would be damned if he betrayed such a secret. After staring at each other in silence for a moment, she laughed.

"I know, Suzaku. I know about Aurora's father, and her career, and her family, and her relocation. After all, I was a client of hers, a long time ago." Suddenly, the cause for her change of tone became clear. Kendra had been protecting Aurora.

"You were her client?" Kendra sighed.

"I guess I was pretty rough on you a while ago, and haven't done or said much to earn your trust. Since Aurora trusted you with her secrets, I guess I can trust you with a few of mine. After all, who would you tell?" Who indeed?

"Aurora's not the only royal bastard. No, we're not related," she said quickly, waving the question away even as the shock of it was blooming on his face. "My mother was the second royal consort – I'm Schneizel's half sister. Our mother had an affair with a Romanian ambassador. When I was born, I was promptly shipped off to an orphanage in Russia - one of Britannia's first territories, and not the kindest of places. After a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, I managed to claw my way into an academy, and had graduated by the time I was fourteen. I completed my doctorate just before my twentieth birthday. I was something of a pet of the university's, and when I was invited on a speaking tour of the homeland, I accepted without a second thought. I was a brilliant prodigy in the medical field; no one would mistake me for the second prince's disgraceful half sister. Unfortunately, I was very wrong." Her fingers, still laced, slowly tightened, squeezing the blood from her knuckles.

"Charles knew the truth before I even entered the country. He viewed his own misbegotten progeny with a little more leniency. Not much, but enough. Those of his wives, however, would face a much harsher fate. Really, it was shocking my mother survived his wrath. But she was hardly free from punishment. Haven't you ever wondered?" Suzaku was confused by her question.

"Schneizel was the perfect heir. Still is, really. Charles could not have asked for a more ideal successor. And yet, he was forever locked in the so-close-and-yet-so-far position of second prince. Did you ever wonder why? It was because of me." She said it with a sigh, and surprising regret. "Schneizel and his mother were punished for her indiscretion with his position. I, of course, was completely unaware of that until later." Sighing, Kendra briefly rubbed her forehead before re-threading her fingers.

"Twelve of my fellow students and doctors were killed almost before I could blink. The only reason I survived was because Aurora had gotten wind of the plan with her impressive network. Obviously, the subject is a sensitive one for her, and she came to help. She barely got me out of there alive. It quickly became obvious that I couldn't stay, and I couldn't go home. So, instead, she arranged for transport out of the homeland and a job at a clinic in London. She was fifteen, and she saved my life, and made me a new one. She always did have quite a hand with fake ID's." Suzaku just shook his head.

"And yet you help me. I'm Zero. I... I'm the defender of the empire." He didn't intend for the note of the despair that slipped into his voice.

"To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure what to think of you. I don't know the first thing about you, really, and I'd be a moron if I tried to convince myself otherwise just from what I've seen of you on TV. And, obviously, I'm no moron. I don't want to know about your past, Suzaku. Not now. Not until you can talk about it without it obviously crippling you. It was hard enough for you to tell Aurora. And no, she won't tell me without your permission. If there's anything that woman knows, it's secrets. As for your replacement of Aurora with Euphemia, I wouldn't let that freak you out."

"Are you sure?" She smiled at his worried question.

"Yes. It's not terribly common, but not impossible, either. To my best guess, your brain was under severe stress during the withdrawal, obviously. It couldn't erase the memories of Euphemia, as they are too intrinsic in your through process. But, it could wipe out the major source of pain – the memories of her death. The withdrawal, like any major trauma, can act as a reset button for your brain. Conveniently, Aurora was there – a young female who bears a faint resemblance, caring for you and worried about your welfare. Not much of a stretch, really." When she said it like that, Suzaku doubted his sanity a little less.

"I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, but this whole recovery period isn't going to be easy, Suzaku. I'll be here regularly, but the person you're going to have to trust is Aurora. I'm glad you've already confided in her – that is a big, difficult first step whose importance can't be overstated. She understands you a lot better than you might think." As Kendra stood to start packing up her equipment, Suzaku rubbed his temple. He noticed out of the corner of his eye the precise movements of the doctor as she replaced her equipment in the bag. It went beyond simply being neat; she placed the items back into the back with a surgical exactitude. Kendra replaced the x-ray machine in its foam-lined case, winding up the cord back to its original arrangement. Suzaku didn't know anyone who could do that, and privately wondered at the significance of it.

"I'm not sure I can do that. I'm not sure why I told either of you anything in the first place." She paused while placing the lead apron back in the bag, its corners folded sharp enough to cut.

"Secrets are poison. You can get used to the dosage over time, but you'll OD eventually. Just ask Aurora. She's still a recovering addict from that drug. You had to tell someone at some point, Suzaku. You're just lucky it was us."

"And why is that?" he asked tiredly. Kendra just rolled her eyes as she shouldered her bags, every tie neatly knotted and every buckle carefully fastened and every length of leather meticulously tucked into its keeper.

"Because we're awesome. Duh." With that, she strode out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind her.

* * *

_Maybe I'm learning to edit my scenes, or maybe I just don't realize how huge they are when I'm planning them in my head, but this is yet another example of me starting on a chapter and ending before I had initially planned. Not only was it getting monstrous, but this was a dense piece. Lots of medical talk and back-and-forth. Aurora's pretty absent from this one, which is OK. I don't want to overexpose her._

_I embarked on a boat-load of research for the medical terms, and even consulted a friend in medical school. Every writer should have a doctor friend. No, I did not make that x-ray machine up. It's exactly like the one they used on my horse's leg before his surgery. I swear it's true._

_I'm glad that I get to work with Kendra in this chapter. We haven't seen much of her, and she's an interesting contrast to Aurora. She more Spock, while Aurora's more McCoy. She's turning out to be a much more complicated character than initially designed, which I love. Her backstory was there from Day 1, and a lot deeper than she lets on._

_I hope Suzaku's sudden confession to her didn't seem too jarring. I'm trying to walk that line of his silence and fragility. I love how she kind of tears into him a little, and I hope it feels genuine that he'd cave after that. Let me know if it doesn't work, but here's hoping._

_It's so cool to write stuff I've been planning for weeks. I know that sounds kind of dumb, but I only ever manage to write about 30% of what I plan._

_Hope you like it!_

_Love, Tango_


	13. High Electric Potential

As Kendra trotted down the stairs, pointlessly readjusting the strap of the heavier bag on her shoulder, she cocked her head slightly once she'd reached the first floor, her eyes narrowing satisfactorily when she caught the murmur of music down the hall. Leaving her bags at the foot of the stairs, she followed the heavy thrum of primal bass to the studio, the frantic finesse of mechanical strains becoming clearer as she got closer.

Aurora had a penchant for electronic rock during her work-outs.

Kendra pushed open the ajar door in time to see Aurora leap into a fully executed butterfly kick, landing lightly and bending into two back handsprings. She turned, her fists in tight to her chest, and leapt into a jump kick that had enough power to break her imaginary foe's jaw. Pivoting, she delivered an uppercut, backfist, and elbow strike in rapid succession. Aurora then ended the set on a viciously fast roundhouse that carried her momentum down into a left split. As the forceful, self-assured lyrics, declaring it was time to walk away without apologies and how the voices in the mirror speak, wound to a close, Kendra cleared her throat.

Her breath rolling in and out in controlled waves, Aurora looked over instantly at the sound. For a moment, the silver in her eyes was sharp enough to cut through concrete, the eyes of a hunter primed to spring into action. Hence Kendra's distance when she'd broken her friend's concentration. She knew better than most Aurora's potential lethality.

"Looking good," the doctor said with an approving smile, slowly walking into the room that smelled like grass, metal, and sweat. The open window accounted for the first scent and fresh breeze that whispered through the room, bringing the cool in with it.

"Thanks," Aurora returned, only slightly out of breath. Sliding her leg forward around her, she stood lithely in a graceful, controlled stretch of movement. Aurora always had a way of making the hardest thing look easy, Kendra thought to herself. It was most likely because of the intensive training she had endured in her youth. Her footsteps echoing on the sprung maple floor, Kendra glanced over at the mirrored wall, seeing Aurora step over to stop the music already revving into its next song and grab a towel. Swiping it over her face, she chugged generously at a water bottle before turning back. Looking at each other in the reflection for a moment, Kendra spun slowly on her heel.

"No dancing?" Aurora just shrugged before stepping over to plop down on a carved bench next to a small duffel and a stack of clean white towels. Kendra joined her, the two women sitting shoulder to shoulder. Ban snoozed on a round bed placed at the end of the bench just for him. He found work-out time boring.

"A little to warm up. I'm kind of out of shape, so I thought some of my bastardized katas would be the best call. Besides, I get a little itchy when I don't imagine punching someone after a couple of weeks."

"Or actually punching someone," Kendra murmured drily, remembering how she'd once foolishly agreed to spar with Aurora the last time they'd come to Ireland. Kendra had boasted that Aurora wouldn't have to hold back. She hadn't broken her nose, but it'd been a close call, and even as a doctor, Kendra hadn't been sure that the nosebleed would ever stop. Aurora just grinned a little sheepishly; she still felt bad about it, but Kendra had asked her to go for it, after all.

Her smile fading, Aurora toyed with the corner of the sweat-laced towel.

"Um, Kendra?" The doctor glanced over, her brows raised in question. "Did I do something wrong?" It took Kendra a moment; when it dawned on her, she smiled and rubbed Aurora's shoulder affectionately.

"No, sweetheart. But you could have cut the tension in there and spread it on bread like butter. Did you and Suzaku have a fight?" Her suspicions were sharpened when Aurora didn't make eye contact, or respond right away. But when she looked back up, Aurora's eyes were in control and her smile disarming.

"Of course not. Just a little awkward this morning. He's not exactly the easiest person to talk to." Kendra sighed as she leaned back against the wall and stacked her ankles.

"No, not really."

"Speaking of which, how is he doing?" Kendra ran Aurora through Suzaku's physical condition, adding more technical terms than she had with Suzaku and directions for his care. Especially in regards to the stretching, his diet, and the hourly deep breaths he would have to take to avoid pneumonia. Aurora took it all with a nod and a serious expression.

"Aurora… I'd like your opinion on Suzaku's mental condition." She glanced over, frowning slightly.

"You're the professional, Kendra, not me. I only have impressions." The doctor nodded in agreement.

"Exactly. I don't want you to betray any confidences, but can you give me an idea of him? Think of it this way – if you had to explain Suzaku to someone who'd never met him and couldn't know the specifics, what would you say?" Aurora sighed, rubbing the center of her forehead with two fingers. It was a tell, one of a few that betrayed exhaustion, confusion, and stress. Silently, Kendra rubbed a soothing hand over Aurora's shoulders, but didn't recant her question.

"He's… incredibly angry. Angry and heartbroken and helpless. He's trapped in this vicious cycle of hating his situation but is incapable of escaping it. Suzaku has lost _so_ much, but never really had a chance to grieve for any of it properly. And when you never grieve, I guess you never allow yourself the chance to look back on memories with any sort of positive emotion. Which ends up adding guilt to the whole mess. You never really accept the loss, and the pain eats away at you like a cancer. And I don't think he understands any of that. Or wants to." Nodding, Kendra tugged on Aurora's gold ponytail warmly.

"Pretty much hit the nail on the head there, Rora. I agree with you, on just about everything." Narrowing her eyes, slightly, Aurora caught the wisps of Kendra's drift.

"What's your point, Kendra? That he's beyond help? That I'm wasting my time?"

"Physically, no, of course not. But mentally? I don't know, kiddo. You might have bitten off more than you can chew. I don't think _I'm_ qualified to deal with his battery of mental problems, and I have a doctorate. And all those things you mentioned were just a kickboard for the addiction, which is a whole other breed of cat." Kendra sighed. "I know this is the best, if only, option for his recovery, but I'm worried about you. Suzaku will heal up; he'll go back to Britannia. But what will you be left with? You can't change him, Aurora. And you may have saved his life, but you can't save his mind. You don't like failure; if I recall correctly, you always used to say that it doesn't suit you. So how will you handle failure in something of this magnitude? That's what I'm worried about." Aurora gazed at her friend a moment before pushing to her feet, pacing along the paneled floor with long, agitated strides.

"I know you're right. No, I do," she said before Kendra could open her mouth to protest. "I know that until he wants to get better, he won't. But I have to try, Kendra. I have to give him a chance; he's never had one before, so none of us can know if he'll take it. I have faith that if I show Suzaku that someone cares, someone wants the best for him, someone wants him here on this planet, then he might be a bit more amenable about his own existence. You and I both know humans aren't designed to be alone. And he's been so incredibly alone, Kendra. Being here, in this place, could show him that he doesn't have to be alone, not anymore."

"You can't go with him, Aurora," Kendra gently reminded. She just rolled her eyes.

"I know that. And he can't stay here. But if memories can destroy Suzaku, maybe memories can also give him the strength to carry on. I won't give up on him; not now, not ever."Aurora stood in the center of the room, her hands curled into loose fists, her feet planted as if ready for attack. Her shoulders were squared, and her eyes blazed like the silver was molten. She was just a slim, tall woman in a blue tank, black pants, and black, high-arched shoes. There was still a faint sheen of sweat on her skin, and her ponytail was a bit ragged, hair falling free to frame her eyes and cheekbones as the base of the tail started to loll to the left. She should just be ordinary.

But she was glorious.

If only Suzaku could see her now, Kendra thought. This was a woman to believe in. And if she believed in him, how could he ever doubt himself?

"Since when did you get so righteous?" Kendra asked with a crooked smile. Aurora's shoulders loosened a little, the corner of her lips tipping up.

"You and I both know I wasn't always this way. And I'm no stranger to grief. But when you lose everything, and manage to scrape yourself back together, you believe more than most that almost anything is possible, if you had just a little bit of help." Sighing through her nose, Kendra stood, nudging Ban's rump with her toe before kneeling down. Massaging his ears, she pulled his face close.

"You keep an eye on them, you hear me?" Ban blinked, then licked Kendra's nose. She stroked his head before straightening. "At least somebody around here is thinking with a clear head," she murmured with a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a frustrated sigh. Looking over her shoulder at Aurora, Kendra jerked her head in invitation, and they left the room together, Ban lowering his head again. His whip-like tail may have been over his nose, but his ears remained pricked, tracking the women's movements.

They retrieved Kendra's bags, loading them into her non-descript silver rental sedan. The western sky was gathering clouds, and if Aurora had to guess, she'd estimate they'd get rain before dinner. Once they finished settling Kendra's equipment, Aurora wrapped her in a hug. She held on for a moment, closing her eyes briefly.

Kendra wanted to protect her, she knew that. And Aurora knew that her friend was worried for both her and Suzaku. Instinct, ground deep in a young girl that had learned the hard way how to take care of herself, wanted to snarl that she didn't need protection. But Aurora wasn't that girl anymore. That little girl had served her purpose – she'd survived.

Survived long enough to allow Aurora to grow into the sort of woman who could appreciate her friend's genuine concern for exactly what it was. As she pulled back, Aurora pressed a kiss to Kendra's cheek, careful that when she straightened, a charming, tilted grin was on her face.

"Don't worry, Mom. We'll be fine. I'll be careful. See you in a week." Kendra tipped her head back to look into her taller friend's eyes, one brow lifting. She could tell when she was being dismissed. Shaking her head before kissing Aurora's cheek in return, Kendra turned and seated herself in the car. She'd slammed the door shut and buckled her seat belt when Aurora could faintly hear her speak.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" Leaning over as far as she could in the constraint of the belt, she rustled around for a moment before straightening and rolling down the window, holding what appeared to be the thigh bone of a mastodon in her hand.

"Since Chandler wasn't able to come this time, he sent along a present for Ban." Aurora took it with an incredulous expression.

"You do realize it will take him six years to get through this monstrosity, right?" Kendra just shrugged with a smile, turned on the car, and backed out of the narrow dirt drive. Aurora stood and watched until she disappeared, waving when Kendra reached the end of the drive and shifted gears, slowly twirling the giant bone between her fingers. Shaking her head as she mounted the steps of the porch, she loosed a quick, crystalline whistle through her teeth. Ban came thundering out of the house like an ungainly gazelle. When he caught sight of the bone, the gleam in his eyes could have lit a stage.

Silently, Aurora held out her hand, the palm facing him. Skidding so hard on the hardwood floor that his butt dipped, Ban plopped down in a maneuver that would have appeared designed to a bystander. Aurora knew, however, that when it came to food, Ban was an uncoordinated klutz. The sheer excitement made his brain leak out of his ears.

On command, he shook with each paw, laid down, stood up primly on his hind legs before settling down to sit again. On the directive to "Say please," Ban sang out a series of low, warbling howls that sounded distinctly like speech, his liquid eyes warm and pinned on the bone like a hawk sizing up a baby rabbit.

The ritual had been commonplace for the both of them; but Aurora had to admit that no matter the circumstances, Ban talking was probably one of the funniest things she'd ever heard. As he delicately nipped the hulking treat out of her fingertips, the gray dog immediately spun and trotted into the living room. Walking inside, Aurora saw him circling to lie down on the old hooked rug in soft rose and steely blue.

"No. Bed," she said sharply before he had time to settle down and start slobbering. With a sigh, Ban straightened and trotted over to the dog bed tucked next to one of the couches. He had one in almost every single room in the house.

Satisfied that her dog wouldn't ruin an antique rug with his saliva, Aurora strode back to the kitchen. After perusing the refrigerator for a moment, she wolfed down Suzaku's untouched sandwich from a few days ago before opening a can of chicken noodle soup and setting about heating it. She didn't know what had gone on up there today, but she imagined Suzaku was probably feeling a little twitchy and nervy. And soup seemed the best comfort food she could offer, not knowing his tastes.

Busily crunching an apple as she set tea to boil, Aurora ran through a quick version of her cool-down stretches, since her routine had been interrupted. Most of them she could do easily without interrupting her snack, but there were a few that required her to clamp the apple in her teeth when she had to use both hands. She supposed that if anyone had walked into the kitchen and caught sight of her, bowing into a bridge stretch with an apple pierced by her canines held in her mouth, they would have thought she was either psychotic or escaped from the circus. Neither of which were necessarily untrue. Lazily pushing off with her feet, she paused her walkover, holding the handstand, a silent pillar of muscle and bone. She then brought her feet down, straightening as she reached up and freed the apple with a crisp crunch.

Just then, the tea kettle loosed a dry squeal. Ban paused in his fanatical chewing and howled in response. Smiling around the apple bones that hung trapped between her front teeth, she poured her tea, and spooned Suzaku's soup into a bowl. Balancing it and the mug in one hand, she finished off the apple before ascending the stairs. When Aurora pushed her way into Suzaku's room, she found him lightly dozing. He jerked awake at the sound of her footsteps, and Aurora instantly felt guilty, despite the instinctive near silence of her movements.

Suzaku was embarrassed that he'd fallen asleep at all. It was galling to admit that his interaction with Kendra had been so exhausting. Once, he'd fought battles for hours on end without pause or falter, a juggernaut that only stopped when the Lancelot gave out; his physical strength had never been the first to fail. Now, a few hours of talking and listening were enough to drive him into a fatigued sleep. He would have been angry if he hadn't been busy blushing over Aurora's appearance.

She looked ready and young and lethal, her muscles still a little flushed from exertion and her acres of fair, exposed skin lightly dewed with sweat. Moving with a looseness of joint that spoke of eager exertion, Suzaku couldn't help but envy her a little. He'd used to revel in the health of his body like Aurora was; now, it was just a cage.

She was legs and hair and eyes, and Suzaku had to swallow frantically against the saliva that suddenly pooled in his mouth as she placed the bowl of soup in his numb hand. She said something to him; he had no idea what. His brain had gone helplessly silent as he really _saw_ her, perhaps for the first time.

Her skin was lighter than his by several shades, a delicate cream that bore old, faint scars. Battle scars, he had no doubt. He had suspected her strength, but the sleek muscles along her arms and shoulders told Suzaku he hadn't been nearly generous enough in his estimation. The honey glimmer of her hair was darkened along the temples by sweat, the sleek tail streaming over her shoulder delicate in comparison to her physical strength.

Aurora glanced at him, and Suzaku felt a detached curiosity trickle through the shock as all sound faded and the light sharpened. It was her eyes, he realized. The color of a silver bullet, just waiting for the squeeze of a trigger to change the timeline. The color of approaching storms, brimming with a violence held in check by the atmosphere. It was locked in by her flesh, caged in by the bars of her bones. This kinetic energy that could burn down the universe and take everyone, including herself, with it. She was elemental; a monolith made mortal.

Then she blinked, and the sensation faded. She was just a beautiful woman, looking at him for a response before giving up with a shrug and walking away. As she shut the door behind her and he could hear the illusive patter of her footsteps down the hall, Suzaku felt like he'd just survived a hurricane. How could someone feel that much? How could someone _be_ that much?

She wasn't even in the room anymore, and yet Suzaku's fingers itched to touch her skin, to feel every scar, to know every battle without having to be told. To heal or break her anew, he couldn't be sure. Confused and scared at his own needs, he curled his fingers into a fist, and clenched it tight. It was only when faint thunder rolled in the distance that Suzaku realized he'd felt that same whirling realization as he'd looked into Aurora's eyes before.

The color had been different, but the distinct sensation of being in the presence of a titan was much the same.

Aurora was more like Lelouch than she thought.

* * *

She showered, changed, and trotted back downstairs. She checked in on Ban, and smiled – he'd already obliterated one end of the bone, and was gnawing his way down the shaft. Heading back to the kitchen, she prepared a plate of cheddar cheese slices and a couple hard boiled eggs. One of each were for her, but the rest were for Suzaku. Now that his diet was freed up, it was time to get sneaky.

As distant thunder rumbling along the northern horizon caught her attention, Aurora freshened her tea and then began her rounds through the house closing windows against the impending rain. With that chore finished, she scooped up her plate and made her way back upstairs. Armed with her current book and her reading glasses shoved up on top of her head, Aurora knocked at Suzaku's door and poked her head in.

"Hey. Mind if I join you?" Suzaku looked up from his sketch pad. He was about halfway through a picture of Milly Ashford on the day of her graduation from the academy. Aurora recognized the silly heart hat in her hands from the pictures. He gazed at her for a moment, and Aurora was reminded of the strange look he'd given her when she'd dropped off his soup. Part calculation, part fear, part wonder.

Finally, he murmured, "Come in," and Aurora made her way to her usual seat. With what she thought was admirable stealth, she scooted the half-empty bowl of cooled soup over and set down the plate of eggs and cheese within easy reach of both of them. With a contended sigh as her used muscles stretched, coiled, then relaxed, she picked up a slice of egg and chewed it slowly as she pulled her glasses down onto her nose. She could see that Suzaku had turned his attention back to the drawing, his fingertips already darkened with graphite from shading.

"Normally, I prefer to watch a storm alone. But you've got the best view of the house." As if to punctuate her words, lightning cracked through the dim storm light, the growl of thunder quickly chased by a soul-piercing whine from downstairs. Suzaku had followed her gaze to the window filled with clouds and misted by early rain, but quickly whipped his head towards the distressed sound, his brows furrowed in concern and question. Aurora sipped her tea, waiting, her eyes calming tracking over the lines of text. As dependable as the sun, Bannock came thundering up the stairs.

"In here, you big baby," she called without looking away from her book. The big dog, ninety pounds if he was an ounce, slid to a halt from his mad dash to Aurora's room, squeezing through the ajar door with his ears flat against his neck and his eyes wide with distress. His present from Chandler long forgotten, Aurora stroked his head and neck comfortingly as he gave another quivering whine, the next thunderclap resonating in their bones. She murmured the comforts that seem to come naturally to a mother before pointing his head towards the bed and patting his rump.

She could tell by the expression on Suzaku's face that he'd expected Ban to jump on the bed, and he didn't seem very opposed to the idea. Aurora had a moment to think over that development with a small smile. But confusion chased over his chiseled features when Ban hunkered down and crawled under the bed, until the only visible part of him was the white-tipped end of his tail. Sighing, Aurora pushed herself up from the chair and crossed the hall to her room. When she returned, she was carrying a somewhat ratty navy blanket that was usually bunched on the floor at the foot of her bed. It was something of Bannock's baby blanket, and while he didn't often sleep on it anymore, it helped with travel or storms.

Crouching down beside the bed, she lifted up the bed skirt, and murmuring soothing comforts as the rain started to fall in earnest and the thunder picked up rhythm, she slid the blanket under Ban's head and shoulders before retreating back to her chair. Sighing as she munched on a piece of cheese, she sent the chair rocking.

"That dog has faced down violent degenerates, hostile drug dealers, and dirty soldiers without so much as a flinch. He's tasted blood, and is a goddamn hellhound in the protection of me and mine. But he's always been a complete coward when it comes to thunderstorms." Shaking her head, Aurora set her book back in her lap and resumed reading.

Suzaku thought he knew why Ban was afraid of storms. The things Aurora had mentioned, the things that could be fought against, could be defeated. But a thunderstorm was Mother Nature's show, and no matter how strong and brave and smart you were, there was no defending against that fear. There was just no reason to it. That was probably the magnificence of it.

Then again, he could be totally wrong. After all, Ban was just a dog.

As Suzaku worked on the shading of Milly's hands, a slight movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. As the rain pelted the cottage with a wild drum beat, he glanced over to see the foot resting on Aurora's knee jiggling like a spastic puppet. She must have seen the tilt of his head, as her eyes invariably met his.

"Sorry," she said, her smile apologetic, her foot falling still. She took another sip of tea, and returned to her book. Not two minutes had passed, though, before her foot started bouncing again.

"Didn't you work out today?" Suzaku asked. She glanced up at him, then down at her foot. It fell still again as she took another sip of tea.

"My bad. Storms get me kinda worked up. They're just… elemental." Funny, he'd thought the same of her not an hour ago. "Besides, I have to go at it for about six hours before the first edges really get ground down. That's not terribly feasible." Curious about this side of her that she'd mentioned but he'd never really seen, Suzaku set his pencil down.

"So how do you handle it?" She toasted him with her faintly steaming mug.

"It's a blend of chamomile and lavender tea. It takes a bit to get used to, but it keeps me from doing cartwheels on the ceiling or scratching someone's eyes out. I think of it as a very mild form of medication." Suzaku tried to grasp the concept of being wound so incredibly tight.

"Was your mother like that?" Aurora had returned her attention to her book. Instead of looking up and responding, she just shrugged her shoulders and hummed three distinct syllables. It was obviously, "_I don't know_," without the enunciation. It struck Suzaku as an incredibly juvenile response. He tilted his head, his brows furrowed and a small smile curving his lips.

"How _old_ are you?" That got her attention. Placing her elbow in the spine of the book to hold it open, Aurora wrapped her other hand around her mug.

"I'm twenty." It seemed impossible. But, then again, her age was difficult to estimate. Sometimes she had the mannerisms of a fourteen year old, sometimes she had the expressions of a forty year old. He'd never met someone so mercurial.

"You're as old as I am?" Suzaku asked, shocked. She waved his question away.

"No, no. I turned twenty last month, which makes me…" She paused as her fingers rippled in the air, counting out the months, "eight months younger than you." That gave Suzaku pause.

"You know when my birthday is?" He couldn't help the defensive, slightly suspicious tone. It was an odd topic – he hadn't celebrated his birthday in years. So how, and why, would she know? Suzaku shouldn't have been surprised that Aurora sensed his resistance and misgiving. Turning the book over on her thigh and halting her rocking, she gave him her full, undivided attention. When coming from the bright silvered blue of her eyes, it was a little spooky.

"I know your birthday is July 10th. I know you were born in the Wakkanai Municipal Hospital in Hokkaido, not far from your family's summer estate. I know that you're the eldest of three brothers. You are the only one to inherit your mother's eyes, eyes she displays because of the tiny drops of Britannian blood that she carries. It was this blood that allowed your acceptance into the Honorary Britannian system at the tender age of thirteen. When you were fourteen, you broke your wrist in what was called a "training accident," when, in reality, it was the result of three Britannian officers ganging up on you when your parentage became known." She set her chair to rocking again.

"I know that you were considered for warrant officer three times before Cornelia promoted you. The first time you were passed over, they gave you the consolation prize of granting your request to join the Honorary Britannian Special Response Unit when you were fifteen years old. During your time with the HBSR, you were considered for officership twice more, your four commendations for bravery weighing in your favor. But you carried a citation on your record for inappropriate conduct. Only snotty Britannians would punish someone for defending an ally against the scorn of others. But racism was how the old Britannia worked." She shrugged, and took a sip of her tea. Suzaku tried to breathe, his fingertips tingling and numb.

"How… how could you know that? All the copies of my military file were-"

"Destroyed. Except for two. One of which is in the Royal Registry, which I do not, nor will I ever, have access to. The other was in the possession of your former commanding officer." As she gazed at him over the rims of her glasses, her eyes calm and her expression pleasant, it dawned on him.

"Lloyd was one of your clients." Her smile widened.

"Asplund was one of my last big cases, and a royal pain in the rear. I went above and beyond the call of duty for that moron, so, yes, he owes me to this very day. He did knock out quite a chunk of his debt by getting me the complete version of your military file, though."

"Why?" Suzaku managed, slowly regaining control over his breathing. He trusted her, or he wouldn't have told her his whole history following the time after his stint in the HBSR. But it was terrifying, and impressive, that she could find out so much just by making a phone call. Suzaku didn't care to be so vulnerable, even with someone he was starting to trust.

Aurora pressed her mouth to the knuckles of her fist before responding.

"Because I needed to know what we were up against." Suzaku had no idea what to say to that. Lightning dominated the faint light, and for a moment, her face was cast in the stark wash of dancing electricity. Then the thunder was growling along their skin, and she was smiling gently as Ban groaned from under the bed.

"You're alright," she crooned, her eyes never leaving Suzaku. Something was pressing against his chest, something that begged to be set free into the air, to be voiced into fruition. Just as Suzaku opened his mouth to ease the pressure in his heart and head, the lights went out.

"Damn," Aurora muttered, pushing up from her chair. Taking the moment to scramble back from an edge he'd nearly leapt over, Suzaku took advantage of the dark and regained control of his facial features, rolling his lips together as he swallowed the words he'd almost spilled. He still had no idea what exactly they were – all he was certain of was that he wasn't ready to say it. He may never be.

The room was painted in shadows with a heavy brush, the air dense and the light swallowed whole. Aurora moved with assurance, despite the lack of light, and when her eyes caught his as she deftly opened one of the drawers in the armoire and withdrew a pack of matches, Suzaku realized with a sort of wonder that she could see in the dark as well as he could.

That was impossible. No one had night vision like his.

Yet despite the thick gloom, briefly shattered by lightning that stole the dark more than gave the light, Aurora moved with assurance, lighting the candles scattered around the room. Suzaku had never noticed them before, and assumed they were arranged for just this purpose. When she'd finished, the room rippled with the gentle echoes of the firelight, the breath of flame flowing along her skin and dancing on her glasses.

"Sometimes the power will go out during a storm. This one's more fireworks than a drencher, but the flowers could use it regardless." Suzaku nodded, still a little skittish. From what he'd almost said, or maybe just the way the woman looked in the candlelight. As guilt reached up and grabbed him by the throat with hot, sweaty fingers, he flung his eyes back down to the sketchbook with a frantic desperation

Why?

Why did Aurora make it so easy to forget Euphemia, and the obligations he had to her memory and spirit and pain? To forget what had been lost, and what had sealed the sentence of the life he now lived? He squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to slide the armor back on, the distance that he wasn't sure he could now live without. But when it didn't click firmly in place, he felt the panicky fear of exposure slither in through the cracks.

Aurora sat, feeling helpless.

She had no idea what was going on in Suzaku's head, but whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant. She'd seen the flashes of struggle and fear, of panic and distance. And she couldn't begin to guess their origin or meaning. What in the world was going on in that pretty head of his?

As the intimacy of the atmosphere began to sink in, Aurora lost her courage to dig for answers. She knew it was cowardly, but she couldn't be sure she'd be what he needed. She'd made a solemn vow during the ferry trip over, swearing to never ask him for something he couldn't give. And what Aurora wanted from him, as a woman, simply wasn't possible.

In an act of desperation, she shoved a whole hard-boiled egg in her mouth, in case any damning or embarrassing words slipped past her impressive filter. Suzaku looked over at her oddly, and as Aurora pictured how she must look with her cheeks puffed out by egg, she made the resigned realization that she'd probably never looked so stupid in her life. But, taking advantage of her painfully comical appearance, she merely flashed a thumbs up, nodding and humming as if it were the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted in her life, and nudged the plate closer to Suzaku, gesturing towards it in invitation.

He looked at her askance for a while before finally taking a piece of cheese and nibbling at it as Aurora doggedly chewed. Neither said anything. Their pasts had proven them fearless, but now, they remained mute with fear.

The lightning waned, and the rain settled to light, comfortable rhythm. Ban emerged from his hiding place, disappearing for a few minutes before returning with his half-gnawed thigh bone and earnestly settling down to work. Suzaku smiled in approval, and finally returned his attention to his nearly completed sketch. Aurora watched him work for a few moments before flipping over her all-but-forgotten book.

Time passed quietly as the tension slowly ebbed. Suzaku absently ate the rest of the plate, absorbed in the finishing touches of Milly's silly hat. Aurora finished her book, quietly sipping the last of her tea as enough of the clouds parted to reveal a glittering sunset burning along the clouds, the illusion of fire and smoke quiet stunning. Each drop of water reflected the distant light, until it seemed that the whole countryside shimmered and flamed.

Aurora nudged Suzaku's leg with her toe, jerking her chin towards the window. Whatever he was going to say died on his tongue as the sweeps of crimson, bronze, and gold sizzled in the sky. They watched the sun fold itself onto the horizon in silence. It was almost holy, the fury of the sky manifested in color.

As the witch-fire red smoldered to violet, a color that never failed to remind Aurora of Lelouch's eyes, Suzaku looked back at her.

"What was it you did? For Lloyd, when he was your client?" Aurora glanced over at him, the lenses of her glasses flashing in the candlelight as she tilted her head, the corner of her mouth kicking up.

"You don't want to know." Suzaku wondered if he felt bad for Lloyd. Not really. The emotion that did trickle through, however, was humor.

"That bad, huh?" She laughed as she set aside her empty mug, standing to make them dinner and refill her tea.

"Worse."

* * *

_This one took a while. Hammered it out, then it sat. Hammered out some more, sat some more. That seems to be my rhythm, which is an unfortunate roller coaster ride, if you ask me._

_With the exception of his birthday, all of the stuff Aurora talks about from Suzaku's military file is headcanon. I'm an author, so I can get away with that kind of shit. :D_

_This is the first example of any mentions of music. I'm not particularly musical, but it's a very important aspect to my day-to-day functions, and a huge source of inspiration, creativity, and balance. So it will definitely play a part in this story too. I find it tacky to just throw out artists and song titles, so there'll just be little lyric hints. If you know the music, bravo. I'll confirm or deny guesses, and will post a full list when the story is finished. You all have no idea how long I've been planning this. _

_I figure that when you get to a point in a story when you just want to grind two people's heads together in an attempt to tell them that they're meant and should now kiss like nobody's business, you're on the right track. I love these two morons. *sigh._

_One of the reasons why this story usually takes so long to update is that whenever I start feeling like I'm losing touch with Suzaku, I re-watch episodes or check out art or jump on the wiki. There are so many aspects of him that I can't touch on quite yet, so I want to make sure I don't lose sight of them. _

_Canon characters are hard. _

_He's getting out of that bed next chapter and we're seeing the rest of the house. I promise._

_Hope you like it!_

_Love, Tango_


End file.
